


The Language of Loneliness

by Gee_Writes



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Businessmen, Couch Sex, Drinking, M/M, Masturbation, POV Alternating, Riding, Smoking, Workplace Relationship, Workplace Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-27
Updated: 2016-04-27
Packaged: 2018-03-03 20:56:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 26,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2887592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gee_Writes/pseuds/Gee_Writes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was cool on the balcony when they met, removed from the commotion inside.</p><p>They were 25 and lonely.</p><p>This, they had in common.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Introduction

It was cool on the balcony when they met.

The moon was full and bright, illuminating the swath of clouds around it. Bright reflection shimmering in the fountain below, dancing amongst the water. A welcome reprieve.

The party inside had the composed, lively chatter that a successful business function should. The musical notes of emptying glasses, followed by the practiced laughter of the deceitful, the opportunistic. Business parties were all the same, no matter where you went – grimy and rotten, with a shiny veneer. On nights like this, the glamour of the despicable was suffocating; a pungent aroma that oozed from every guest. A malicious tension in the atmosphere

Somewhere amidst the crowd, voices were raised, accusations muffled in the smog of decadence, fading as quickly as it had arisen. No one wanted to be escorted out. No one wanted to miss an opportunity to better their position.

And it was there that they had found each other, removed from the commotion inside.

They were 25 and lonely.

This, they had in common.

 

-

 

He was ill-fitted in his suit – that was the first thing Killua had noticed. Fabric straining in the sleeves of his jacket, too small and stretched tight; his range of movement in his arms hindered by the snug cut.

The second thing was that he was smiling, a hazy type which in Killua's experience either indicated drunkenness or idiocy. Usually both. He'd long stopped assuming the best of people; much more familiar with the type of person inside the grand hotel. And, as such, was a lot more dismayed that there seemed no place for him to _breathe_.

His intruder looked a little uneasy now, languid smile fading as the moment stretched. He was dark; even moreso with the lighting from the inside pressing at his back, the golden glow creating the illusion this stranger was shining – brown eyes widening at the short laugh that thought caused. Because if Killua knew anything, it was that nothing in this life truly shined.

He snubbed out his cigarette on the railing, already missing the drifting smoke as it travelled to the stars, as he braced himself for more scripted small talk. Huffing in annoyance, he pushed himself up, straight, taller than the other. That convincingly faux smile now in place.

“Apologies for my rudeness, I wasn't expecting company, Mr, uh?” trailing the question.

"Gon," he said, shaking the proffered hand with a smile.

“Killua,” he offered back.

 

-

 

This tall man – _Killua_ – seemed different from the rest. Gon wasn't sure how he knew that, but it was probably something in the way he held himself; confident, experienced, not relying on unconvincing tricks, like the people inside. His suit looked expensive, his shoes, designer – everything about him screamed style, and he pulled it off effortlessly.

Even earlier, before he had realised Gon had unwittingly stumbled across him – when his eyes drank the sky in longingly – he seemed separate, a beautiful enigma mixed in with humans. Shifting between moods as easily as water, slipping between stones. A far cry from the clunky gearshifts of the other guests.

His skin was milky, like the moon. Eyes bright and blue, a magic all their own. Sharp eyed and sharply dressed; he was luminous against the darkness of the night. Gon had been surprised he had been able to touch the other, near expecting his fingers to pass through.

A beautiful dream.

Clapping had started behind them, the party quieting as important speeches started. He felt a thousand miles away from it, standing on this balcony with a relative stranger, but found that immeasurably preferable to the dull, scripted monotony the ongoing function was offering. And of course, that made sense.

Killua was the most interesting thing he'd come across in a while.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone!
> 
> Thank you for reading, it means a lot to me.  
> This will be chaptered and quite long; hopefully, you'll all enjoy it.
> 
> If you ever want to leave me a message, or just talk HxH, my Tumblr is compulsive-bibliotaph.tumblr.com


	2. Strangers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He didn't need friends, or lovers, or anyone at all. He especially didn't need the deceitful yes-men he was constantly surrounded by.
> 
> The only person he needed was himself, and he liked it that way.
> 
> -
> 
> He was curious; wanting to explore things he'd never known, wanting to discover things – for himself, for people – sure that the wider world was as wondrous as it seemed. And he wanted to become, affect, part of it.

He'd overheard the rumours before.

Things like, _he surpassed two brothers to get his position; apparently he threatened exposing some huge scandal of his father's_ , or _he never leaves the office. He's dangerously emotionally repressed, and attacks female staff whenever the chance._ Half-whispers that stirred the air he passed through, idiotic as they were incessant. It was juvenile and ridiculous, and he could barely summon enough care to engage _clientele_ ; so the opinions of weak-willed pencil-pushers were the absolute least of his concern. On occasion he'd privately smile to himself as interns would scuttle away in fear, eyes wide and breath held as they watched their young boss. Others, more daring, would openly stare; unsure whether Killua even noticed them. _(He did.)_

Sometimes one of the secretaries would try to seduce him, which always made his insides curl with disgust. Confidence in their looks, their attitudes, would delude them into thinking that they'd find an easy route to old money. A life of luxury and an attractive and powerful lover was all the motivation they needed. Sometimes he'd indulge them – the fire in their eyes a good indication that it'd be _more_ trouble if he left them alone – but mostly, he didn't. And even this was part of the act within this world. No genuine feelings, just pure calculation.

Another piece of expertly crafted illusion.

He'd always found it slightly funny that people thought he'd worked hard or coerced his way to the top; dealt in shady means to become the family – and business' – successor; when in reality he had no interest in either. The decisions had been made when he was a child, and now this life was more ordinary to him than any other. The fact none of them knew was a testament of how good he had become at disconnecting himself, his personality, and replacing it with a competent lie; a Master Zoldyck with whom the entire building was familiar. It was _Killua_ that no one knew.

He didn't need friends, or lovers, or anyone at all. He especially didn't need the deceitful yes-men he was constantly surrounded by.

The only person he needed was himself, and he liked it that way.

He was hollow on the inside; he'd always thought. It was why he could reflect the cool attitude this business needed so well, why no one suspected he was separate from the whole. He wasn't filled with the poisonous snakes of this world, but nor was he filled with anything else – he was a colourless entity, drifting. Less substantial than his cigarette smoke, but less free, too. White hair, white skin; a mere shade away from nothingness.

He sometimes wondered if that made him a monster. He knew it probably did.

His only comfort amidst it all was the fact he hadn't sunken yet. That the bile, thick, hadn't found a weak spot in his defences and filled his hollowness. That if humans were only thick slime within, he was happy being a monster.

People were complicated – they all had agendas and opinions. Not one of them could be trusted, and the second that he did, Killua knew he'd lose. Knew that he'd become just another oozing member of the company, polluting and ruining everything in his wake. That, rather than being blank white, he'd be drowned in festering muds. Losing even that last scrap of self of _Killua._

Which is why it was so confusing to himself why he had slipped with Gon. That he had offered his first name – _just_ his first name – something he was usually so guarded with, merely because the other party had offered theirs. I wasn't something that had ever happened before. Wondering whether Gon now had a sliver wedged from him; if he was going to crack Killua open and find the cavernous nothing inside.

Or, even worse, find it already filled with murk.

And once he was called upon for his speech, he was painfully aware that he was standing before dozens of set smiles. The carnivorous look of wild animals, all focused on him. Played up that confidence he needed, to make sure no one in this room become aware of the shift. Of perhaps, the tiniest of scratches on his mirror edge.

Because he wanted to stay Killua for as long as he could.

 

* * *

 

Even now, surrounded by a sea of people, he was cool, sleek.

A different breed from the eager crowd; perfect in his poise, an air of elegance permeating from his skin. He spoke; voice as smooth as chocolate, slightly shifted from the tone on the balcony. Covering each word with a conviction none could dare to question, let alone argue. Under the bright hanging lights, he was less of himself; a little more of this Earth than when he'd bathed in moonlight, indigo tones washing over him and highlighting his silver lining. It was less relaxed; more mindfully composed, but all the same, Gon was in awe.

Every audience member was captivated; yet, not nearly as quiet as they thought. The soft shuffle of fidgeting, the heavy air of exhale. Tiny, unnoticed things that prevailed in large crowds, no matter the reason. And each huff of breath or creak of muscle rang in his ears, annoyingly distractive from what he _wanted_ to hear. Not that he was listening to the words, just, wanting to watch how they spun. Whether the it was the words he said, or the tone of Killua's voice itself that made his ears burn, his chest vibrate. Gon wasn't much of a listener, but again, Killua had his attention.

Gon hadn't been in business long, only taking his job because his father's associates had offered it; needed his skills for a project they were developing; good with animals, good with people. He wasn't used to this game of hidden motives, but had been asked to represent the group. A fresh face to encourage new investors, someone young who could speak passionately and convincingly. And Gon was good at that; had a fire in his blood, his Aunt once told him – so much like his father, he often heard. And he was curious; wanting to explore things he'd never known, wanting to discover things – for himself, for people – sure that the wider world was as wondrous as it seemed. And he wanted to become, _affect_ , part of it.

Business though, was not nearly as glamorous as it seemed.

Over the past three months, it had puzzled him why anyone would willingly subject themselves to this – suits and social etiquette and _pressure_ – a thousand individuals, clamouring to the top, hoping to claim a moment of notoriety. It was a dangerous balancing act, and to Gon, incomprehensible to why you would want recognition for playing a pretty act. That if you weren't yourself, why be noticed at all?

But now, with Killua, he had witnessed the real thing. The thing so many people tried to imitate, embrace; the thing they could never be. His mystery, allure – everything about him was fascinating, the type of individual who naturally focused attention. Gon could finally understand being drawn, beaconed to these types. Like moths to a flame.

And if it took wearing an ugly tie, so be it.

The speech was at its high point, anticipation cresting like a wave as the audience looked on, enraptured. Gon could feel the electricity in the air, tension rising as Killua – Killua _Zoldyck_ , the heir to the absolute empire that was Zoldyck Industries – announced their investment interests. A crucial play; which determined which companies, _which people_ , had another day amongst them.

New technologies, alternative products, changes to universal protocol; if the Zoldycks were funding it, the rest would follow. They set the standards, and as the largest privately owned company in the world, their interests were paramount.

Gon suddenly, inexplicably, felt nervous.

Killua had just finished shaking the hand of a stranger; black suit, black hair. Glasses reflecting the light of the room as easily as his smile reflected his gratitude. Well practised. The crowd clapped politely; a right of passage into the elite.

A flicker of _something_ in Killua's eyes. A moment Gon had nearly missed.

As the applause settled once again, desperation finally seeped the guests. Pungent, powerful. The final minutes of the speech, the last chance for the sundry.

Gon _did not_ expect to be called upon.

But he had.

Taking to the stage, if Killua was surprised it was him, he betrayed nothing; just stretching that smile a little wider. Hand on his shoulder as he addressed the rest.

"With the changes this young man and his team are doing, establishing new rules for classifying areas of national and international importance, as well as putting in place ecological restoration standards, they're not only preserving the present, but encouraging our future," speaking a language that was familiar, yet Gon still couldn't understand. Shook the hand that was offered, for the second time that night. This one, a little different from the last. "It will be the largest natural preservation initiative of its type; a true innovation."

And he turned to Gon, blue eyes alight.

“Tonight, ladies and gentlemen, we're making history.”

 

* * *

 

He was anxious.

It was ridiculous that _he_ – _Killua Zoldyck –_ was _anxious_ over some idiot he'd met for two minutes outside. The same idiot who was reaffirming all of Killua's suspicions.

His smile now was wary, a little shaky; far from the one he'd directed Killua's way earlier. The dark fabric of his jacket was still stretched taut, tension in his shoulders pulling at the seams. Nervous energy buzzing in his core. Dark brown eyes flickered around the crowd as he addressed them, explained his work; an annoying little tap of his shoe accompanying. Sweat, glistening from the overhead lights, dripped down the back of his neck; down, to soak his collar.

Not a whiff of the human sludge needed.

All this, and yet Killua was still worried.

For, as inexperienced as he looked, Gon was the one fronting the project for the Zodiac Group. And, whilst not being nearly as high profile as Zoldyck Industries, they were under the umbrella of the Hunter Association; the next best thing. This investment was a **big deal** , and _Gon_ would be in charge. He couldn't dress himself, but he'd managed to convince the CEO – his _Dad_ – to spend some money.

 _This_ guy.

Gon.

It was laughable, from what Killua could see. He was frumpy and unprepared; clearly an outsider who had just been thrust into the big leagues. A very small fish in a very big pond.

From first impressions, it was clear he wouldn't be able to handle the investment funds; too naïve, too trusting. Floundering around, eventually being predated by hungrier rivals. People who wanted it, had planned for it, more. The sharks circling ever closer; smelling fear.

And generally, that would be fine. Killua was never one to interfere with the natural order of things, unless specifically advised that doing otherwise would be detrimental to the company; to the family. The dozens of times Killua had had to save a project, fire workers, squash competitors; lest the company lose money.

It was a sticky business that sunk into his skin, too personal for Killua to handle with any sort of thought. Because once people had reached that point – lost, dejected, aimless – they had lost their fuel; no longer running on the noxious bile inside themselves, the smog of exhaust gone from their words, their actions. They were shells – quiet, unhappy – all their hope, gone. It was something he'd try to forget as the taste of smoke tickled his tongue, acrid and calming, but nothing ultimately chased out the look of broken souls. He hated every time he had to witness it.

He hated that it reminded him of himself.

And with Gon, _Gon_ , there was the risk that this was all an act. An even better actor than Killua – weakening his attackers by making them underestimate him. Everything, an elaborate ploy. That when Killua had slipped, had fallen victim with a handshake and a _name_ , he had taken notice. That Gon knew something about Killua that no one else did. That maybe Gon had the most toxic insides of all. Or, that maybe, Gon was like him – empty of anything.

That thought had him crawling in his skin. Breath catching on itself, a hard sickness down his throat. Weak, susceptible; the room seeming incredibly too loud. The possibility he had been cornered, trapped without his knowledge.   In that case; how much longer would it be before joined the ranks of soulless eyes he'd caused over the years?  Or would his family, his Dad, stop Gon before it came to that? Would _he_ have to?

If this was fear, now he knew why people avoided it.

 

* * *

 

He was acutely aware of being watched.

Not by two or three people; by several dozen. And each new pair of eyes pinched his skin, surrounded him as he spoke. Death glares, surprise, unassuming boredom. The range of colours, emotions, boiling below. The sharp pair behind him, vibrant ocean blue, and unwaveringly focused on his back.

It was all he needed.

Gon wasn't quite sure why Killua was so intent on him, whether there was any meaning for the tingle up his spine, if there was reason behind making this speech; so rather than think too much, rather than confuse himself, he spoke.

He explained the project, why they needed it, how it was different from anything else offered. He shared anecdotes of island life, of growing amongst the trees, raising the forest's King – of sleeping beneath the beech trees, of learning to swim in shallow swamps. It was a story of childhood adventure, of befriending the birds because they could travel the world, discovering how everything – the animals, the people, the forests, the oceans – had learnt to coexist. That if one piece fell, they all did.

And by the end of it, those people below, their pinching eyes and murmuring voices did nothing; fell to the wayside as he caught Killua's hand in another handshake, more confident. Wasn't sure whether Killua knew he looked as if he could fly, as if Gon's words had painted wings on his back, made him more beautiful. That the curling interest reflected in his eyes reminded Gon of warm lagoons. And whether or not it was awe, Gon couldn't help but grin. He didn't belong, but he did know what he was doing, what he _should_ be doing.

He wasn't afraid. It took more than _people_ to stop Gon Freecss.

And although now would be the perfect time to call his associates, tell them the good news, he wouldn't. Not when Killua was cutting through the crowd, graceful even as he weaved; champagne in hand, outstretched to Gon. That smile, once again.

“You surprised me up there; you really know your stuff, huh?” Conversational, impressed. Another shade of difference from the stage and the balcony. A step to something closer to friendly.

"I wanted to show there was a reason that you picked me; that I was a good choice," champagne glittering in the light, glittering down his throat. "I won't let you down."

“No fear of that, from what I've seen,” flash of white teeth, “You absolutely sold it. I'm surprised I haven't met you before.”

"I only joined the company when this project was outlined, but I've built it up almost entirely from the initial foundations," that foreign tongue that no longer seemed so intimidating. A familiar shape. "I know it inside out."

“I'm putting in a request to oversee the development into the final stages,” white hair swishing as Killua finished his glass, “I'm very interested in your ideas...” And as he leant closer Gon couldn't help but follow, spice and smoke tickling his nose. “...But I'm more interested in _you_ , Gon Freecss.”

It was words like that that strengthened him, made him unbreakable against the force of others.

A core of steel, the stubbornness of a mule, the idiocy of a Freecss. He had them all in spades,

And if that's what Killua wanted, that's what Killua would get.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading.
> 
> I'm going to try to keep this on a weekly schedule as much as possible, so hopefully, the next chapter will be up in a week.
> 
> If you'd like to leave me a message, or just chat HxH, my Tumblr is compulsive-bibliotaph.com


	3. Defences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One interaction with his defences lowered, and he'd occupied his thoughts, his decisions. That perhaps this is what happens when humans intermingle.
> 
> -
> 
> He hadn't believed in magic when he was younger, the world was so vast and unusual, there was no need.
> 
> But Killua was the closest thing to it.

By the time Killua realised it, he was probably more than a little obsessed.

At first, he justified it through needing to understand the project; pouring over reports and standardisation outlines, familiarising himself. And with every passing day, hour, second, it was harder to believe.

By the end of the week, the pretence was gone.

Gon would be starting at the new offices on Monday, as Killua had instructed. It would be easier for everyone involved, having a centralised head office; self-contained. Better for their image too, of course. It was a necessity; a point from which to grow. And it would allow for Killua to keep an eye on Gon – to know, to really _know_ , that there was nothing duplicitous going on. That he was just muscled arms, and full smiles, and hard work. That he'd stumbled into the mists and hadn't found his way out; rather than been born from them, made of them, like Killua.

A heavy smoke of uncertainty swirled within his head, curling into his brain, mingling with his thoughts. And that too was new, the number of thoughts. The amount of time he'd spent actually _thinking_ about someone else – busy murmuring and frequent ideas filling space where before there had only been serene calm. The small part of his mind that had been him, _Killua_ , intruded upon by this _person_. One interaction with his defences lowered, and he'd occupied his thoughts, his decisions. That perhaps this is what happens when humans intermingle.

The taste of tar on his tongue; a heavy seeping which put him on edge, made his mind saturated with the now familiar fear that he was already changing. That Gon had already changed him, the ways that humans did.

That he'd become a little less monster, a little less Killua.

The weekend stretched longer than it should, not long enough yet; every moment spent thinking of _Gon_ .

He was an only child, Bachelors degree in Environmental Science, had spent his life in absolute _nowhere_ until five months ago, and was estranged from both his parents. There was nothing noteworthy; nothing Killua would even have considered before this point. But each piece, each fragment of _ something _ that made up Gon Freecss was significant. It had to be, or else Killua would have to find another reason why this was affecting him – why, from the moment they had met, he had found a new, nauseating, uncomfortable rush. A pressure bottoming him out and cracking his outer shell, broken for the world to see. That if this wasn't sorted out soon, his life would be over, faster than a lightning strike, possibly just as impressive.

He could see himself floating, if he closed his eyes. Could see how the tiny part Gon had pried off his defences could cause a fracture, right from his chest, where his heart should be – spreading to his farthest, deepest points. How the elaborate web of cracks, much like his own, would fall apart around him. His life's work, his life's identity, nullified, with nothing left to protect him from the world. Like walking naked into a blizzard.

And despite all this – every cell in his body _ screaming _ at him to avoid this – to not get involved; he wanted to. Wanted to know this Gon Freecss. Who he was, what he was. How he had managed to invade his mind with a smile and some conversation.

It was a Sunday night, and he was dreading the morning. Dreaded the fact he was outside, smoking, just like then. The moon wasn't as bright, and the city was close to sleep, but the whispering of the breeze tickled at his nape, lingering as the image of earnest grins and warm hands clouded him again.

He usually smoked to centre himself, to calm and soothe; a sort of meditation, almost. But this cigarette, and the dozen before it, only managed to increase his heart rate. Blood pounding in his ears, the familiar tobacco tinged with a new memory now. Caramel tones, with a voice full of primary colours; a rough hand in his own. Someone so grounded, so of this Earth, that Killua felt unbalanced in comparison. Gon pushed him off kilter, clawed his way into his awareness, and shook him to the core. Gon was _ not _ like him. Did _ not _ belong in his mind.

And yet he stayed.

 

* * *

 

He smelled of cigarettes and cologne on Monday morning.

It had barely been three days since they had first met, but the sight of Killua – nodding to their new secretary, rifling through a stapled booklet, noting a change – had Gon itching beneath his collar.

A collar, he was proud to note, which _ hadn't _ been borrowed from Leorio.

He'd actually spent some time this morning on his appearance. The white shirt was simple, accented with the tie his aunt had gifted him before he left. Bright green, like his favourite lookout; the forest treetops, a sea of a different colour. It wasn't much, but it was comfortable. Made him feel like he could stand alongside Killua in his tailored vest – grey like doves, like the first clouds of a storm – without feeling like a detriment, like he didn't belong; a rock aside a pearl.

When Killua looks to him – sees him for the first time in the new building offices, which smell like artificial pine and white paint; sees him, them as partners – Gon can feel himself beaming. Hot in his chest like the sun, trying to burst into the world via his smile. He's sure he looks ridiculous, but right now, he doesn't want to stop. So he won't.

And when Killua smiles back – more of a smirk than anything – he can feel his heart stop. Can feel his hair on the back of his neck tingle; an exhilarating shock down his spine, toes curling. He feels like he's glimpsed something delicate, eternal. A vital ingredient, forged from stardust, in Killua's blood. Timeless, true.

He hadn't believed in magic when he was younger, the world was so vast and unusual, there was no need. And when he had moved here, to this city that tastes of smog and broken hearts – where birds can't fly, and the only whispers the trees share are those of long-time weariness – even that last childish dream had slowly been suffocating. His happiness, his optimism, slipping slowly out of reach.

But Killua was something different. He couldn't explain the reasons his eyes were drawn, following, seeking him out. Didn't have words for the swirling in his stomach, the colours bursting behind his eyelids. Why his dreams had Killua smoking, made of smoke, slipping through his fingers as soon as he got close. Back to the galaxies beyond Gon's reach. He wanted to know more, _ see _ more; curious nature fuelling him.

Gon wasn't that well spoken; he knew he wasn't like some, able to rouse emotion through words, paint scenes through a sentence, artists in speech. But he did _ feel, _ could understand people by the way their hits fell, could communicate through touch. Hesitation, happiness, hatred. The softness of children, the callus of workers, the claws of foxbears – all different, all understandable. And he knew his body, his reactions, well enough to realise that this was different.

It was probably a mere moment, but Gon was enraptured; wanted to dance along to his heartbeat, memorise the veins drawing intricate lines against ivory arms, see if the diamond cut of his eyes softened when smiles settled there. From this distance, he was too far; the brief handshakes not enough. Killua was out of reach, and Gon could only scramble towards him.

And then all at once, he was gone; turned away down a corridor and off to actually _ work _ .

So Gon followed.

 

* * *

 

Gon was right behind him; smiling with his eyes closed as he walked. Perhaps listening to Killua's footsteps to guide him, he wasn't sure. Confidence in his step, despite that.

He hadn't wanted this; for them to be so close, so early. Still hadn't shaken his thoughts or slowed his heart. Two cigarettes this morning had done nothing; his one familiar comfort, fading away, abandoning him when he needed it most. Bitter coffee coating the back of his throat; dark circles, he was sure, under his eyes.

He hadn't said anything, hadn't even said _ good morning _ like any normal person would. But Killua was realising more and more that Gon was unique; strictly himself. Didn't behave like anyone he had ever come across Stood across like an idiot and stared, stared and smiled. Warmth and openness and happiness in a single movement. That burning ember within him, sparking, growing until even someone as disconnected, as apart as Killua could tell. Could feel the heat of _ emotion _ .

And there was something contagious to that; that pulled him in and compelled him to reciprocate. He could feel himself smile back – barely there and not nearly as practised – from somewhere more deeply hidden than his regular afixment.

And from the way those brown eyes widened, mahogany grain and cold tea, he knew. Looked like he'd just seen Killua shed his skin – that in a sense, he had – and stored that knowledge. An instinctual shift, like an animal; and it caused a twisted sense of relief for Killua that he wasn't the only one being affected, losing balance, since they had met.

But that moment couldn't last. Shouldn't, for the sake of his sense of self. So he severed it; cut short something that teetered too close to change. Wasn't sure if it had been a life line, his string to follow out of the labyrinthine depths of his emptiness; the snapping of his spider's thread, preventing him from ever reaching that softer, safer light.

But Gon didn't seem to care.

Instead, just slotting himself aside, like the spot was made for him. Fell into step, oblivious or dismissive to Killua's attempt to escape. To retreat somewhere, to replace his shattering image; a mirror, broken by the sledge-hammer force of Gon Freecss. And Killua was starting to realise that he had been irreparably damaged for longer than he'd thought. That this person, stocky and strong, had been leading him with his own pace – a pathway that led to something new; to somewhere Killua wasn't sure he could survive, with the state he was in.

A gateway to the unknown, accompanied by an enthralling nightmare.

He was, Killua noticed, at least wearing something that fit now.

 

* * *

 

It was barely there, but from his position slightly behind, he could tell.

A strange mood drifted between, and Gon was almost certain he'd be able to run his fingers through it if he chose to. Thick, but not overbearing; something palpable in the air as they walked. He, still not entirely sure of their destination. Unsure if Killua did either. That, instead of being led along, following blindly as they travelled, it was a shared trip of discovery; a journey with no set destination, exciting.

But then all at once, they stopped.

And perhaps it was his imagination, the ripple of Killua's shoulders. How his breath was a touch lighter, longer, than before. Seemingly bracing himself for an impact. Standing in front of an empty office, looking as if they were breaching a boundary – One wide-eyed, one tense, and both in anticipation. Gon wasn't really understanding _ why _ , but when Killua held his breath, so did he. Grabbed the door handle when the other wouldn't, liquid nerves rising in his stomach as he opened it; revealed the boringly basic room inside. Too white, too sparse; the perfect colour of disaffected efficiency. And as he blinked back the glare, the burning _ white _ of the room, Killua had seemed to have recovered. Stepping into the place with his usual collected attitude – his skin, his hair, a softer shade of alabaster than the walls.

“This should be fine for our office, right?” Phrased as a question, but less so than it seemed. Those blue eyes, inky and deep, focused on him.

He wasn't sure where his voice had gone, a simple nod and shaky “yeah” the only thing his brain could supply him with. He wasn't _ scared _ of Killua, not at all, but in this instant, he had the look of a predator. Something Gon had learnt long ago to tread lightly amongst – the more obtuse to the atmosphere you were, the more likely your death. And he'd taken up residence in their den unwittingly, given the opportunity to sharpen himself and survive.

Killua was a thriving member. A top predator to which the others cowered; an innate dominance which needed no introduction. Beautiful and deadly, a genuine wonder. The pulling of Gon's gut, edging him nearer; because he had always known he didn't heed warnings well. Didn't intimidate easily, and wasn't one to be dissuaded.

And if his reckless nature brought him closer to Killua, he would be happy. Even if it left him scars, left him broken and unfixable.

So he stood his ground and straightened, setting his stance and raising his voice. Made sure the “It's great, Killua,” grew from his gut and carried his weight. And when that sharp smirk returned as an answer, he felt it. Static in the air, sparking in his lungs; anticipation of something bigger, grander, filling him up. Gravity pulling him in, insistent on them getting closer. To touch, and understand. A dangerous sort of want.

And maybe he was crazy – stubbornly projecting what he wanted to see, too eager for his self-satisfaction – but to Gon, it was clear.

He wasn't the only one.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone, thank you for reading!
> 
> This chapter references both [The Myth of Theseus and the Minotaur](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Theseus#The_myth_of_Theseus_and_the_Minotaur) and the short story [The Spider's Thread](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Spider's_Thread) by Ryūnosuke Akutagawa. They are both worth the read if you haven't yet.
> 
> I apologise for being slightly later than I had hoped. Hopefully, I'll be better organised next week.  
> If you'd like to leave me a message, or just talk HxH, my Tumblr is compulsive-bibliotaph.tumblr.com


	4. Slip

They were alone, here, in the empty office.

It was the perfect opportunity.

His earlier attempts at figuring out the motives behind the oddity that is Gon Freecss had all ended in the same way – Killua getting frustrated, and the mystery no closer to being unraveled. With them both here, close, amongst each other, it provided the greatest observation point he could have wanted. And bit by bit, he could chip away into Gon's facade, find the whirling clockwork beneath and watch how it spin himself. If not today, then tomorrow, or next week, or next month. A thousand moments waiting to happen; allowing Killua to discover the other, to understand himself. Why the golden embers of Gon flit around his mind, caught fire to his thoughts.

And why the other looked nearly as eager as he.

Gon was dark and brash, clear outlines from the blank walls behind him; the colours of his voice, his attitude, bleeding to his surrounds. His strong affirmations, the sureness to his tone was comforting. He was agreeing with Killua, to Killua's ideas – but without the thick layer of slime covering the words he was used to. Even in concordance, he wouldn't allow for his opinions to be decided for him, and for this, Killua was intrigued.

Because even he – heir of Zoldyck Industries and near-royalty of big business – had led his life doing the bidding of others; making decisions regardless of his feelings. Because that's what this life was, what it meant. Killua was at the top, but not yet at the peak. And that was why they struggled – all the hundreds of thousands of people below, reaching for the top – to be free to think for themselves. To make their decisions matter to the world; to affect others.

But Gon didn't care. Didn't follow the rules.

And he had to know _why_.

“We can get another desk in here for you,” hand settling on the wood. “That way you can have your own workspace.”

“I think it would be better to just bring in a larger table, so we don't have to keep walking between desks if we want to discuss something.” Gon's eyes were alight, thoughtful as he assessed the single desk. “And that way, it'll be easier to collaborate, don't you think?”

He couldn't disagree; was happy to have the opportunity to be near the other, the distance between slight enough to feel Gon's warmth.

“So a shared area? That sounds doable.”

And the grin that got, white teeth and sincerity, was the brightest thing Killua had seen that morning. Brilliant and dazzling, gratitude laced into the shorter's words. They were close to each other now; Killua could reach out and touch that forest-green tie without unbending his elbow.

Almost did.

Instead, he picked up the phone on the desk, dialing for reception and waiting for the high-pitched, helpful tone of the receptionist. Instructed the need for a large table in office room 287; forced his eyes down, away from following Gon's movements. Hummed in affirmation to the young woman on the other end of the line.

But he should have known, should have been wary enough, to not take his eyes off of Gon. No matter how much it made his heart beat off time, how dry his mouth got. Because before he realised it, before he could react, Gon was close; peering askance into Killua's face. Hopeful and pleasant, way too close for comfort. Killua could feel the strength in his frame – strong shoulders, thick arms – and how the hard musculature played beneath thin fabric.

Hanging up the phone, not entirely sure whether the conversation was done, he simply smiled at Gon. Watched the subtle widening of pupils, the gentle growth and shrink of brown iris. 

“They said they could get a table in here within the hour; they're sending over some people to move one, and then we can properly get started. Is there anything else you want?” squaring his shoulders against the proximity. Tried to keep his attitude in place as Gon was inching ever nearer. “Do you need a coffee or anything?”

It was barely a half hour since he'd arrived at the office, ten more minutes since his last cup, but already the pressure was heavy. Body screaming out for an easy soothe. He was wound too tightly, too early. And Gon's face an inch away wasn't helping.

But all thoughts of creamy caffeine were gone with the caress of a breath; a hint of a lower tone he hadn't expected.

Gon, looking at him dead on, mesmerising; voice resonating somewhere deep.

“I've got everything I need.”

 

* * *

 

It was a long-stretched moment, and the subtle tilt of a head. Dark lashes shuttered down, blue eyes hiding. Gon just held his breath, not sure what the plan was – but this, _this_ , seemed right. So close to where he wanted to be; lost, together with Killua.

But the tinny beep of the phone in his pocket broke it all. The force at which Killua jumped back, wide eyes and burning cheeks, nearly had him toppling over the small desk in the room; knee banging with a curse.

And Gon couldn't help it.

He laughed.

Because, well, the situation was _funny_. He wasn't quite sure what had made the other reel back so quickly, hand to his mouth and so unlike the Killua he'd known so far. Obviously flustered; collected atmosphere broken around them.

He hadn't noticed closing the distance between them; a subconscious movement. The strange want of being closer, wanting to understand. See if the blends of blue in his eyes could mix as magically as they seemed to. To count the tiny, barely-there freckles along his nose. And before he'd realised, they were too close, too suddenly. He could feel Killua's breath; wanted to taste it, his words and sounds.

Which, Gon was starting to realise, was maybe not the best course of action between business partners.

A good third of him wanted to salvage the mood, chase it back until it had filled the room again; but the larger part of him – the part that was actually communicating with his brain, it seems – knew it was too late. Knew that the smarter course of action was to ignore it for now, and assess the damage to his porcelain colleague. The blotchy stain of red Killua was wearing, enough of a compromise.

But the moment Gon squat down, trying to see if he could help – the other crumpled down staring at his affected knee, looking a little aghast at his own behaviour – Killua shrank back the tiniest bit; shoulders rising, an unfamiliar shakiness in his eyes. It was slight but undeniable. Unsure of Gon's motives.

That was what cut the humour right out of his throat, squashed it before it could bubble over anymore. The trepidation, the confusion, in Killua's expression. His usual air of composure, a lion amongst the sheep, was gone. Rather than his usual self, he reminded Gon of a house cat; skittish and uneasy around strangers. Even more so than before, he wanted to reach out, touch that soft hair and cool skin; wanted to soothe with words he wasn't sure he had. Didn't want to think he was responsible for this change.

“Are you alright, Kil-”

“Yeah, I'm – I'm fine,” hand darting to his crown, seemingly surprised at his shakiness. “Sorry, I wasn't really... expecting that.”

His hands were a little steadier now, breathing back to normal. Face not quite the mask of confidence it usually was, but calmer nonetheless. Gon stood to give him a hand up, gripping slightly harder than necessary; but the small smile it got was enough to thump his heart into erraticism.

But before he could return the smile – before he had the chance to apologise for tripping up his reactions, or for discovering a part of Killua that was soft and undefined. Having witnessed parts of Killua that seemed like a secret – he was getting up, brushing himself off, and heading to the door.

“I'll just go get us some drinks, and then I'll check how that table is coming along. You can. You can wait here; I won't be a minute.”

And before Gon could make a sound, he was gone. Slipped out the door with movements whisper-soft; leaving nothing but an echo. Soft greys and welcome whites, punctuated with a flourish of sapphire; a deep-rooted ache filtering from Gon's bones at the retreat.

And as quickly as it had shrunk, Gon could feel their distance grow.

 

* * *

 

He had to move; he had to get out of there. Put as much distance in between them as he could before he could feel comfortable again. Feel _himself_ again.

He walked down the hall, just slower than a run, turned a corner, and closed himself into the nearest empty room he could find. This one had plush chairs, a painting of a yacht on one wall. Muted burgundies and beige, it was different enough from the last to let him catch his breath. That white room had been too bright, tinting the corners of his sight. Gon, dark, but just as striking. Probably almost as confused, left back there, alone.

But that room was too dangerous right now. Where he'd watched as the last flimsy excuse of his outer defenses had fallen and shattered around him. Slumped to his knees as the few excuses he could muster, swiftly slipped out of reach and left him stranded. Someone had finally broken through, gotten a glimpse of the scrap of self Killua had saved from his environment, and now things had changed.

And unlike all his years of nightmares, of worry building in his gut, Killua had been offering it. It hadn't been an attack from outer forces, but instead a betrayal from within.

He'd thought there was the possibility that he and Gon were the same; both empty of anything, the rest of the world, different. Similar in ways he could recognise; someone who would understand.

But, he'd been dead wrong.

Gon wasn't empty; far from it. Filled with the sun and summer days, not a shadow in sight. A burning heat that drew Killua near; made him want to shed some of his mist. He'd figured out why he'd been mesmerised, like staring into the sun, eyes burning, white prickling the edges. Someone so different from Killua, but still not human.

He was no monster. Not at all.

And they were business partners – for the next few months, at least – by Killua's own design. Not the ideal choice to be craving touch from; not the ideal choice to be showing vulnerability to.

But they were so close in that moment, and he'd wanted to get closer. A warm beckoning, wondering if Gon's smile felt as welcoming as it looked. Wondering if his tongue was as strong as his temperament. If his back muscles would shift beneath wandering hands.

And it was this part of Gon that was dangerous; that had Killua weak against him and seeking out more. Attracting him like a positive magnet; he'd never experienced the feeling – something so heavy and dangerous, but more enticing than he could describe.

Something that made him forget himself.

And that was why it couldn't happen again.

 

* * *

 

It had been fifteen minutes, and Gon was starting to wonder.

The message blinking on his phone had been from Leoreo, checking up on the first day of the job; with the new offices, new outfit, new _partner_. And as much as he appreciated the concern, his timing – as always – was atrocious.

Because without that interruption, there was a definite chance Killua would be still with him; tangled up in each other's eyes, or arms, or twisting, twining presence. Acquainting himself with the flustered, blushing version. The one who was separate from the rest. Cornflower eyes and downy features; his biting wit and silver tongue flailing, failing against the sheer magnitude of that itching, irritating want.

Things could have been established before Killua had time to worry, time to doubt – as Gon guessed he had – and then Gon could have figured out what it all meant. Why the blotchy blush had been nothing short of endearing. Why Gon had the sneaking suspicion that Killua's current disappearance was less to do with refreshments, and more to do with reflection. That it maybe was a mistake of ethics, but certainly not a mistake of intention.

But he had messaged, and it had broken their spell. Popped the bubble so loudly they had both jumped from the sound. And the shock, the snap, had brought Killua back to his rationality. The Killua who was revered amongst high-fliers as the elite. The Killua who had more power in a word than most individuals had in a lifetime. The one who wanted Gon's _ideas_.

It was that Killua who had retreated so quickly, had run away in a bid to salvage himself.

And Gon wondered how long he'd have to wait to get another attempt with _Killua_ ; who coloured rosy pink when he was unsure, who's eyes were filled with wonder, curiosity. The one who chased smoke to the heavens; lingered in the stars.

The one Gon had introduced himself to.

Because, if there was something Gon knew he had trouble with, it was patience. The darting deceptions and half-truths that saturated every conversation. The repetitive cycles of fancy phrases, never getting anything done. Wasn't sure how long he could maintain the game that Killua was trying to play. Something closer to a proper working relationship; nothing like what Gon, they, had been edging towards. That had been a breath away from reality.

But, for Killua, he would try. Would attempt the tricky balancing on the line of friends and strangers. Would wait for Killua to ease again, loosen the hard knot in his core, for Gon. That maybe someday, soon or not, Killua wouldn't feel compelled to stay safe within his hard shell of defenses. Trust the other enough to let Gon in, share the small space. And then maybe Gon could coax him out. Enough to breathe the fresh air, to feel the sunshine; somewhere less dangerous than this viper's nest of an environment.

But all that would have to wait until Killua returned.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, I hope you liked the new chapter!
> 
> Again, next chapter should be up in around a week, and then I may be taking a break for travel; sorry everyone! Posting should resume pretty quickly after that though.
> 
> If you'd like to send me a message, or just chat HxH, my Tumblr is compulsive-bibliotaph.tumblr.com


	5. Ease

Walking back, he held himself upright, high.

Trying to project that confidence; strong against the rapid whispers he could feel against him, within him. Knew that even if he wanted to avoid Gon for the rest of the day, the rest of the year, doing so would make him weaker. Admittance that that slip-up earlier had happened. Made it real.

He didn't have a plan, nor did he have the excuse of coffee. All he had was the door ahead, and an eager partner beyond. The acrid flavour in his mouth bit at him; a nervous itch.

Two steady inhales, filling his lungs stale. The harsh buzz of fluorescents discolouring him into something broken out of shadows – sharp edges in faded colours, a distorted copy of the truth.

It had been easier last week, not being involved, not being affected. He'd worn this skin of scales and leather like it was his own; a monstrous beast, immortal and invincible. The type of creature who could slip through walls, through hearts, and feasted of the souls of others. Despair incarnate, with the power to end whatever he chose.

He'd had control and complacency. No one questioned his place amongst the best; his family's legacy for the future. Before, he had been untouchable.

And then there was Gon.

He felt like a test; some sort of trial to prove his capabilities. Or perhaps a judgement on his life so far. Punishment for living so easily – for never having had to deal with the disgusting, demeaning dredge of reaching his level. That he'd been playing the game and _winning_ since his birth.

He may have been temptation, a lure towards his crash and burning. Or a confusion, a questioning – something to make Killua slip out of his world, to break into reality. Enchanted by warmth; the lingering taste of sunlight in his skin. Gon was complete, and real, and everything that Killua wasn't.

And it was succeeding.

So instead of disappearing in a cloud of cigarette smoke, or dwelling within the confusing muddle of his mind, he instead was going to face him, head on. See if he could survive this intact, return to how he was before Gon arrived. Whether he truly embodied the Zoldyck name and aura – if his genes and wit were the reason he'd survived, or rather a plush upbringing instead. He could feel the water licking at his ankles, waiting for him to slip, fall, drown. To be pulled under and choked by his own fear and cowardice.

An innocuous way of ending – living still, after death, even more a shadow of himself. Not even boredom left.

So he'd decided; that if Gon was going to challenge him, force him to defend that tiny scrap of self, he'd do it. Wouldn't become another dead-eyed drone of a body.

And if that brought hell, so be it.

 

* * *

 

When Killua returned, a near hour later, it felt like a wave hit – forceful and strong, without heed to the surrounds. It wasn't so much anything physical; instead the air within the small room thickening, crackling. Almost like before, but not quite. Gon knew, this time, not to carelessly approach.

“No luck with the coffee?” The other's hands were empty, jaw set.

“Ah, no,” eyes flickering, dark and deep, “useless, really.” It wasn't quite a saunter, but his stature was collected, calculating.

Gon's gut squirmed, but he knew what was happening. Killua trying to reassert himself – seeking solace in his old familiarity. Assessing Gon, like a hunter would its prey. Every inch the sophistication he bled, but on edge, nervy. Perhaps waiting to pounce.

The softness from before had been completely swallowed up. All that was left was muscle and bone, sharp and eager for attack; whenever that may be. It wouldn't be immediate, with Killua; more so a stalking, high-stakes chase. Dangerous and deadly.

He'd grappled with ferocious animals his entire life; lived amongst them. Both of them had. The only difference was his animals never lied, hid their intentions. There were no slippery alliances with beasts. The glint of teeth the first thing you'd see, rather than the last.

“That's alright; I wasn't too thirsty anyway,” mouth quirking up. Leaning against the newly placed table that had arrived in Killua's absence, a stack of papers beside. “Now that you're back though, I can start outlining where I think we need to focus our efforts.”

He wouldn't back down; not to this. Not when he knew what the prize was.

Not when the situation was so _fun_.

Flipping to page 23, a practice that was near instinctual at this point, he found the well-thumbed corner comforting. It was a moment before Killua joined him, but soon pale fingers were carefully finding the project plan themselves.

“I've already organised a small area for trial testing for some of the larger ideas – see if there's any problems with construction or operation, how effective they are, that sort of thing,” watching the small bob of the other's head; how his eyes crinkled ever so slightly. “Then we can start expanding.”

“Is there any cause for concern with this? How long do you estimate it'll be before we start seeing results?”

“The science itself is fine, and we've had some of the best developers working on it. The biggest concern is people actually adopting it. If we have real-world results, it'll make that step easier.”

A mumble of agreement, and Gon didn't know whether Killua realised he bit his lip. Couldn't help his smile. Because, as tense as the atmosphere was, they were relaxed. Despite everything, they were still close. Even on high-alert, Killua felt inviting, enticing.

Rather than hostility, it felt closer to a challenge of equality. Making sure Gon was up to scratch.

And that, he'd never lose.

 

* * *

 

This wasn't what he'd planned for, being so close to Gon, _again_.

And like it had before, the fight, the aggression, had quickly disapparated. That maybe they were both at ease like this; in a display of guts and mettle. That Gon had already discovered him as it was; why bother with theatrics?

But he knew those were just excuses. Pretty lies to justify his decisions.

Because as they were now, all he wanted to do was settle on the same level. Have Gon with him, talking, smiling, excited about his work.

Being with him seemed appealing, _fun._  And for the first time he could remember, he wanted more of something. Wanted Gon to _know_ that he did. Hoped the other thought so too.

The future he was selling – aside from water treatments and flora establishment – spoke to him directly, full of possibilities. Drew him in and tickled his nape; a disarming smile and a healthy heat. Something that made his nerves tingle beneath his skin, his hair rise with a shiver down his spine. He was looking at printed words, but seeing an opportunity for himself, _them_. Something beyond business or expectations. The dull monotony of his existence.

Seeing the future in colour was no longer an impossibility, full of vibrance rather than blacks and whites and all variations of grey. He _felt_ something pounding in his chest, thudding – his heart, he soon realised. Dark hands flipped through worn print-outs, eyes glancing Killua's way. The subtleties of a smile in his eyes, one that hadn't quite graced his face yet.

And Gon lulled and soothed with his tone, his attitude. Not naïve, or innocent, or anything of the sort; instead, just confident with the situation. Knew he could handle Killua, if indeed he lashed out again. Assurance from some old experience Killua couldn't guess at. And none of this information made him sick anymore. There was no more mirrored mask to maintain, or cold-blooded duplicity.

Rather than shirking the attention, he curled into it. Wanted to spend some time with something _real_.

“So what do you think? Sound ok?” liquid light, dripping from his words; eyes alight.

And all of a sudden, Killua realised he hadn't heard a single word. Slipped into the moment again, far too readily. Tried to play it off; squashed the stutter in his thoughts.

“Yeah, it sounds great. I think we can really get started on it by the end of this week, once we get more of a team formed.” Watched the chestnut brown of Gon's eyes slowly focus on him. Peeling back the layers left. “Do you have anyone in mind?”

Face away; eye contact, broken. Breath held, hoping the swirling of his stomach would pass.

“Yeah...” A nod, “there are a couple on the overleaf there – and I've had some offers from some specialists for collaboration since the function last week. They're more willing now that it's got company investment.”

“Well, nothing like being proactive. I'll give them a call – oh, or would it be better if it was you?” Hands fumbling for his phone; not even sure what he was doing, _why_ he was doing it. Heard the bubble of a laugh from beside.

“Don't worry; it's fine.”

 

* * *

 

If Killua was trying to play it cool, it wasn't convincing.

Unlike his air of confidence – the calm embedded into his skin, entwined into his DNA – this was a unpractised floundering that did little more than make Gon wonder why the other was even attempting it.

There was no question Killua was amazing. Had natural skills far beyond what many spent their lives on. And when he embraced that side – the part of him that dodged and outran and conquered his opponents – he was the most beautiful thing Gon had ever seen.

Even now, out-of-comfort and struggling, his basic foundations still held. Killua had strength, a mental fortitude that belied him. And once he'd found his footing again, gotten comfortable around Gon, the rest would return with a vengeance. His poise, grace, cunning, all intact and whirring.

But it was the little pieces that were falling away. The way the air circled around him was not nearly as oppressive, threatening, regal; he no longer looked so limitless, like the stars would fall for him – take him across the galaxy if he so chose. Didn't feel so far out of reach from Gon, who was stuck firmly, rooted to Earth and it's familiarities.

That if Killua decided to disappear – travelling silently and effortlessly – it wouldn't be so hard, so impossible, for Gon to follow. To ask the skies for directions, stars strapped to his feet as he ran after him. That maybe he'd decide not to run away at all; or to run away together. Juvenile dreams that busied his every cell. A wish, hope, want, that he hadn't felt since he was sixteen; aching with wanderlust.

But reality was maybe just as exciting. The two of them, heading this project. Doing something that Gon had only dreamt about as a child – affecting the world; leaving his mark as something more than a simple, small-island fisherman. Mixing with wonders like Killua, perhaps becoming something wondrous himself.

That this was the first step, the first leap, into something bigger.

And the excitement that filled him with was near enough to taste. That if it took another day, another week, another month, he could make it. Do the impossible. Be the impossible.

And as long as Killua was here – willing and able like Gon knew he was, despite appearances – the world could be theirs.

Just so long as they were paying attention.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone!
> 
> I am so sorry this was late! My week has been an absolute nightmare, but hopefully this chapter turned out alright in the end.
> 
> Additionally, I will be travelling internationally for 3 weeks, so unfortunately there won't be any new chapters until mid-February. I hope you understand, and again, I really apologise.
> 
> If you'd like to send me a message, or just chat HxH, my tumblr is compulsive-bibliotaph.tumblr.com


	6. Never

Before they, he knew it, the day had bled into evening.  Sun setting and streetlights glowing from outside the window of their office.  Indigo cut into by the orange ebb of the city.

The cooled, stale air of the air conditioner filled the room, but Killua still felt stifled; like a fire smouldering between them, prickling warmth nipping at his cuffs, his collar.  They'd been conversing, working, for hours now – no lunch break, few calls – an entire day, side by side.  The first of many, it seemed.

And the golden glow had seeped into the room now, colouring Gon's skin, his cheeks. 

Or perhaps that was all his own.  More natural than the buzzing electrical bulbs outside, embers alight in his eyes.

Papers scattered across the wood behind them; there were plans to be made, and meetings to be held.  Today had been enlightening to just how passionate the other was about the project, and his involvement was only going to increase from here.  The shine of the wood littered with fingerprints now; broad hands shuffling papers, a subtle indication to the end of the day.  And it was nearly too late before Killua realised he was preparing to leave.  This day finished, awaiting the next.  Hopefully figuring out their rhythm.

They walked out together, words still overflowing from his associate – happy, upbeat – natural, like a spring.  Steadily soothing.

“So I'll see you tomorrow, then?”  Their footsteps had stopped, glass doors ahead.

“Yeah, same time.  We need to run through the numbers on development costs for that ocean plan, and chase up any of those researchers you were emailing,” phone heavy and heated in his pocket, a dozen missed calls from head office probably waiting.

“Have a good night, Killua,” hand waving as he left, quite slide of the glass doors as he left.  A pale hand raised in response; half a smirk.  Three seconds of silence – only the distant tap of a keyboard floating from the receptionist behind him.

And then it happened.

He hadn't realised with Gon around, but he hadn't had a smoke all day – the unusual absence of scratching cravings, nicotine flavoured relief – too preoccupied.  But now, without the distraction of strong shoulders bumping his, or subtle, slight exhales brushing his skin when they leant close, he was acutely, painfully aware of the fact; the itch in his fingers, the tightening of his throat.  Hands searching his pockets as he doubled back into the office, not quite ready to leave yet.  It clawed up his windpipe, the urgency a foreign amalgamation of stress and confusion.  Perhaps a touch of self-anger or disappointment.

Bitter and lingering.

Cold, biting into his skin, the crisp evening air fluttered in his outfit.  Jacket hems swinging as he lit the cigarette, hands protecting; tiny flame flickering in the wind.  That first grey curl, floating to the sky – reaching towards constellations and mingling amongst the light pollution.  His exhale full of the tension from the day.  For the first time since meeting Gon, he was at ease smoking – the careful, quiet lull of the surrounds, his unease from days prior as impalpable as the lingering smoke.  There was none of the malaise curdling his insides, only content as he ticked away the time; the sounds of traffic and ambience of streetlights a soothing surround.  Back to the urban banality that he once loved.

He wasn't sure what caused the shift; but, like everything that had changed in his life recently, it would most certainly have something to do with Gon.

And, much to his surprise, he was eager to see what exactly it was.

 

* * *

 

It's interesting, this feeling.

He's on the train home, surrounded by people, and his blood won't stop _racing_.  Excitement for tomorrow – for his boring office job that he should be hating, would be hating, if not for the memories of luminous skin, of soft blushes and quiet exhales, of leaning just a little closer than needed, not close enough -  creeping up his spine, skittering across his bones.  The tangible itch beneath his skin, eager.

He feels like it's tearing through the evening, sleek metal and bright fluorescents speeding along.  Announcement over the loud speaker for the next station, the steady shake beneath his feet only adds to the buzz.  Unlike the trip this morning, he’s acutely aware of his surrounds – the haze from earlier making his senses sharp.

Rain patters at the glass, dripping raceways as the station stops them.  People shuffling in and out; a bump of elbows, new chatter of strangers.  The smell of damp clothing as the evening drizzle seeps into passer-by.  Two minutes until the train started moving again, just another destination towards his apartment.

Twelve minutes pass, and whether it’s the drifting tune of the evening, or the mesmerizing dance of water droplets outside, but Gon barely notices it.  He’s halfway across the station before the brisk air hits his senses – over-warm from memories.

He passes a group of smokers at the exit; hanging together, white smoke being swept up in the wind.  Half conversations mutter around, business men and women shedding the stress of the day through their lungs.  Grey ash falls, fiery glow inching towards fingers, lips.  Reminders of that balcony meeting - the breeze less biting, the stars alight.  Fingers as pale as the moon above, eyes closed to the world, lips pursed, as he exhaled.  The smell of cigarettes on blue shirt collars once Gon was close; as those lips pursed in the same way, eyes shuttering closed.

He almost wanted to linger by, a near familiar scent, promising something he couldn’t grasp.  A part of his mind that could revel in the emotions bubbling up.

He didn’t though.  Knew it wouldn’t be quite the same.

The stars were hidden by the rainclouds, a roiling wall of grey.  The rain continued to fall, inch its way down the collar of his new shirt; puddles growing at his feet.  It was less oppressive than it could have been, a refreshing type of downpour – something to share with people. 

Eyes open, looking to hidden stars, wondering if Killua was smoking now.

 

* * *

 

By the time Killua reaches his apartment, thunder is echoing throughout the city; a far-off flash of lightning through the window.  He’d been on speakerphone with his father for the past hour, commanding voice wanting updates even now, so early in the project.  It had been fine, as calculatingly disaffected as usual, and overall, his father had seemed content.

He hadn’t mentioned the near-brush with Gon; the way he seemed to burn whenever they were close.  The freckles hidden on the bridge of his nose, the gold woven into his eyes.  How Killua was sure he should go to a doctor to get his heart checked.

But that wasn’t really relevant.  Not important.

He needed another smoke.

It was an executive decision on his part to forego the balcony; he was trying to _not_ think about Gon, after all.  And, as it was, the overhead fan was used more for this than for cooking - his main meals generally not needing anything more than a microwave; restaurant food, food prepared by his family’s butlers – loud rumble as they worked.  Glass ashtray in hand, one of Alluka’s most recent gifts.

She wasn’t happy about the smoking; berating him whenever he went to visit that he smelt like an ashtray, was ruining his health.  He didn’t want to explain that that was the _point_.  That it reassured him to think that noxious fumes could kill that ooze.  That if he died from this, then maybe he _was_ human.  Something, he realised, that sounded a little crazier now than it used to.

He hissed the exhale; realizing once again, he was changing. 

The patter of rain on his window was quietly relaxing; a subtle soundtrack to his thoughts, and it was nice to let it drift.  Like that business party, with the sounds of strings distant from himself.  How noise had muffled when he'd met Gon; when their noses could touch, and the only sound was the irregular thumping of his heart – waiting for something in Gon's eyes that he couldn't put a name to.  Something that made him burn like a flare even now.  A rush of blood that was completely foreign and completely intriguing, his cigarette doing nothing to quell the snippets of Gon that kept intruding in his mind.

Strong hands, dark eyes.  The goosebumps his breath brought up.  Why Killua had felt his vision swim when they were close; wished they _hadn't_ been interrupted.  The realisation slowly dawning that that he'd wanted to get swept away in this feeling.  To allow his reactions to inspire him, rather than his mind.  Something he never, _ever_ would have imagined; it was a shock, really.

It was getting late; smothering his dying cigarette against the ashtray, he could physically feel the clawing fatigue up his spine.  He'd change, and then try to sleep.  Everything else – shower, food, chores - could wait until tomorrow.  Try not to let Gon overrun his dreams again; new discoveries, sensations, adding to the feel. 

Maybe he'd have a drink first though; just to make sure.

 

* * *

 

Gon wasn't used to much alcohol; his first time drinking with Leorio enough to make him swear off the stuff.  Which is why he was surprised to find himself raiding his roommate's beers.

It was halfway through his fourth drink of the hour when he was joined by the doctor, hospital shift over.  Soft chuckle and a “that bad, huh?” the only response to the scene.  Leorio was a good friend; always concerned for Gon, and the younger wasn't sure he'd ever thanked him for that.  Made a mental note to tomorrow morning, once this softness faded.   He asked a lot of questions about the new job, but Gon preferred to just let the warm buzz overtake his mind.  Wandering amongst his own thoughts; memories of the day, of what almost happened, were swirling down his throat.

“So how's your new boss?  Must be bad, from the looks of this.”

His new boss.  Killua.  Long legs and pale skin, delicate but ferocious.  That soft expression underneath.  He wanted to see more, touch more.  There was no way he could be bad.

He wasn't sure if he was frowning, but it felt like he should be.  An annoyed huff at the man across from him.

“He's not bad... Killua's beautiful!”  Shock lighting the other's face; maybe Gon had said that too loudly.

“He's... he looks so nice, Leorio.  You should see him,” trying to make sure he wasn't shouting.  Leaning forward like he was sharing some huge secret, “and I just wanna.  I wanna see him smile some more, like he's happy.”

“Smile?”

“Yeah, 'cuz.  Well, sometimes he does it and it looks like it hurts.  Like he's bitin' his tongue or something.”  Drunken realisation dawning.  “But sometimes it's like... like he’s really happy, and it shines in his eyes.  He has really pretty eyes, Leorio.”

“Gon, I'm not sure you should be talking about your boss like that.”  He looked worried; he was probably worried.

“We're partners!”  Voice raising again, somehow his bottle empty, “he said he was _interested_ in me.”  It sounded a little desperate, but it was true.

“Still, Gon. I'm don't think -”

“We almost kissed today.”

“What?!”

“We almost... we were going to, and then _you_ called.  And I wanted to; it was so warm and then it stopped because -” An empty bottle rolled off the table.

“Gon, this is really bad,” hand reaching over to grab at his shoulder.  “You don't even know this guy; you're technically _employed_ by this guy.”

“Don't care,” shrugging off the concern.  “Killua's the same.  I could see it.”

“This isn't some high school love affair, Gon.  Not everyone is as kind as you think.  You shouldn't get too -”

“You don't even know him.”  Anger slowly bubbling.  The warm feeling from before too hot in his bones.

“Neither do _you._ ”

That felt like a puncture, deflating the fight from him near immediately.  Now he just felt like crying, frustration bubbling up.  Because Leorio was right.  That maybe Gon was being stupid again.  But he doesn't think he can stop.

“Hey, hey, don't cry...” Hadn't realised the tears were already streaming, salty and wet as they travelled down.  “I'm just worried, Gon.  Even if you both want to be together, there's going to be problems if you're working together, or if your work finds out.  Isn't he the _heir?_ ”  A mumble reply.  “Gon, we can't choose who we're attracted to, or who we fall in love with,” love, that word that maybe he'd been ignoring.  A twist in his gut over Leorio saying it first.  “I just want you to be careful, OK?”

All he can do is nod; drowsiness washing over him in waves now, sleep and tears sticking his eyes shut.  He lets Leorio walk him to bed.  He's feeling too much now, reminders why he doesn't drink.  Collapses on the bed as soon as he's able.

He's hazy, and maybe this isn't good for tomorrow, unproductive for work.

He hopes Killua won't mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my gosh everyone, I'm so, so sorry this took so long! Please forgive me...
> 
> I hope this chapter is worth the wait, though. Lots of things happening!
> 
> If you want to leave me a message, or just chat HxH, my tumblr is compulsive-bibliotaph.tumblr.com


	7. Breaking

Rather than sleep, Killua was stupid.

He'd had more whiskey than he'd thought, hitting him hard, aided by fatigue; it was a lovely warmth that made his insides slosh and his mind wander dangerously; wondering if this alcoholic comfort was anything like the sunshine simmering beneath Gon's skin, or if this was a weak comparison.  He felt the burn in his throat, the prickle in his nerves, and he felt like he could combust at any moment.

Even if it was a facsimile of the real thing, Killua still thought it was nice.

But once he started thinking about Gon, he found he couldn't stop.  Sharp senses dulled by smooth drink and muffled logic, his earlier musings returning.  Dark eyes as he scanned a page, or reading Killua's expression.  The way black pupils grew as their proximity shrank – eye contact never breaking for a moment.

Or how throughout the day Gon would lean towards him, shoulders bumping without care.  The breath of a smile on his lips, tempting Killua who struggled with his own.  When they were close, he could smell pine and oak – a heady mix that intoxicated him, inviting.  He couldn't tell where it was coming from; wanted to nuzzle that collarbone, linger along that neck, taste that pink tongue, to find the source.  Dark skin blooming in blush beneath his mouth, his nose.  Close and delicious and _dangerous_.

And all those things got his heart beating overtime; thrumming in his chest like he'd just run a marathon.  He wasn't used to this.  Had no idea what to do.

He'd heard stories about this sort of thing; early death from overworking.  One day, your heart collapsing from the stress.  Online articles and research papers promoting lifestyle changes – giving up smoking, giving up drinking, giving up stress – far too much commitment and effort by this stage.  An impossible ask.

It was ridiculous thinking anyway; Zoldycks weren't so weak willed that the job could kill them.  They weren't like regular people.

But if it wasn't work, it had to be something.  Stress of some other sort – something he hadn't felt before.  Gon triggering something else that was messing with his insides, overheating him and getting his blood racing.  Occupying his thoughts.

Amber liquid in his glass, spinning the last sip before it slipped down his throat.  Dark and golden, one of the many infinite colours he'd caught in Gon's eyes.  Even this, stupid as it was, drunk as he was, made him happy.  Wondering.  Remembering those eyes so close, so big.  Faces a mere breath apart, lips pink and wet and inviting.  Killua feeling...

feeling...

Feeling like he was being pulled closer.  That Gon was the most enticing thing he'd ever seen, the most interesting person he'd ever come across.  Simple and pure and oh so genuine.  _Want_ clear in his gaze as they stretched the time, atmosphere full.

And it was that, he realised.  He _wanted_ Gon.  As more than just a business partner or colleague; more than an acquaintance or friend.  He wanted Gon in every, any, way he could get him; a hot-blooded _attraction_.

Those lips on his, heavy, hot.  Tongues and teeth and mess over every piece he could reach.  Eyes closed, feeling.  Eyes open, discovering.  He wanted to tangle fingers in hair; wanted to moan and bite and unravel.  Hard and completely and _together_.

And it was with the memory of Gon that he settled from his thoughts, right into his next problem.

_Fuck._

 

* * *

 

Gon wakes up sweating at 3am, hard, gasping for breath.  Cool skin and blue eyes burnt into his eyelids; the memory jolting through him, throbbing.  Obvious and urgent.

Mouth stale, several beers still lingering in his breath as he moves; palming himself purposefully – drowsiness and lingering drunkenness overriding any sense of shame or regret he might have.  As   stupid a mistake as this probably was, he found himself not caring; arousal swiftly defeating his reason.  Instead, focussing all his energy into rebuilding his dream.  Fingers dipping beneath his waistband, low moan at the shift of fabric.  His fingers are hard, rough, not enough, as he keens into his grip; it's good, but not good enough.

Shifting hips up, loose boxers slipping farther as he shimmies, he can almost pretend his harsh breathing belongs to the fantasy.  Wet mouth and wide eyes, beautiful and ruinous; his thumb lingering at the head, mimicking the cheeky tongue in his imagination.  Licking up and across, lips slipping with a happy groan – maybe Gon's, maybe not.  He's should be more worried about how loud he seems, but more noise bubbles up before he can stop himself, free hand moving.  Killua's cool, talented fingers lingering along his thigh.  Teasing and tickling, the slight barely-there brush adding to the build up.

The room is hot, feverish almost, as sweat prickles, beading.  His hand is sticky, slick, but it's hard for him to get there – too much alcohol still in his system.  Harder grip, speeding up, he knows he's getting desperate; so close, yet not quite enough.  He knew it had been a bad idea getting so drunk after his first day, with mesmerising memories of Killua; but Gon had been on a spree of bad decisions lately, what was one more?

Frustrating, it seemed.

He's holding back a groan, low and deep from his throat.  Just one final push and he's sure he'll peak.  Something more; tangible, with the thoughts of seductive purrs encouraging.  Fingers find his mouth, sliding in easily – the heady tang of himself, touching his tongue.  It's messy and crude, but he likes the illusion; sucking purposefully around his own digits, clumsy and uncoordinated and unabashedly needy.  Moans smothered in his throat, saliva pooling in his mouth, it's almost, _almost_.

The fantasy's less clear now, just snippets of looks and touches.  Lips sucking hard, eyes narrowing in distraction.  The air is shifting as his hips jump; he feels so close to bursting.  He's dripping, squeezing, twisting – arm burning from the strain, but he's so, _so_ , **_so_** , close.

A whisper, tickling his ear in a voice that resounds control; completely sure, a tone that could shift the course of Earth.  One word that did it; strong and clear in his mind.

 ** _Gon_**.

He's crashing headlong into bliss; taut and moaning, fingers slipping from his mouth.  The wave of relief winds him, draining his final trickles of energy – a boneless heap collapsed on the bed, sticky and satisfied.  He should probably open the window, clean up, once he finds some sense; but instead, he's drifting.  Floating towards dreams where he's not the only dazed and frazzled one.  Where sapphire eyes gaze back, clouded and warm.  A rare smile, soft and complete and sincere.

Lingering a little longer.

 

* * *

 

Dawn is peeking through his blinds by the time his alarm buzzes, snapping him awake – groggy and uncomfortable, he'd slept about as much as he'd expected to; head ringing in protest.

He honestly considers calling in sick, curling back into bed and sleeping the rest of the day.  Feeling disgusting after last night.  A sick sort of rebirth of himself, into someone, something new.  But now is the time for action; he's made a decision, time to follow through.

Rolling, feet falling to the floor, Killua can't quite muster up the care to check his phone, blue light flashing.  The only people likely to message so early are his family, in any case.  Either that or Gon. 

And well, Gon... Gon was a whole other problem; especially now that his body, his _reactions_ , had seemingly taken over.  Killua's never been this frazzled, nerves buzzing in anticipation.  New sweat creeping, hurrying him to the bathroom, low warmth starting to rise.

His reflection disgusts him, frankly; dark circles under his eyes, skin pallid under the lighting of his bathroom.  His shirt is starting to stick uncomfortably to his back, and there's a clump of hair stuck at a strange angle.  Hand running down his face, the redness of his eyes harsh against the blue; he can see the harsh crust of sleep stuck to his lids. 

He's a mess, his life's ruinously changed, and there seems to be no solution.  He's slowly losing his former self – unsure and stumbling, towards the uncertain.  That baffling, overwhelming direction of bad decisions.

He doesn't really care

 

* * *

 

He's dressed and ready; out the door before Leorio has a chance to corner him again about yesterday.  Wants to avoid the subject as long as possible.

This avoidance does mean he’s wearing the same outfit as yesterday though; didn’t have the chance to borrow a new tie from Leorio’s room.  Didn’t want to risk ironing a new shirt on his own.

He makes an earlier train; boarding with dozens of others as his stomach growls.  He hasn’t eaten anything, wasn’t hungry.  The shake of the train, bump of people making him slightly nauseous, slightly nervous.  And he can’t pretend like he doesn’t know why.

Because he knows exactly why.

And worse, because he _doesn’t regret it_.

He’s breaking the rules, but he doesn’t mind.  Possibly breaking his own heart and doesn’t realise; but he’s going to do it anyway.  There’s a lot he’s changing, but really, he can’t help it.  Gon’s never been very patient, after all.

He reaches the office an hour before he should – an hour before he needs to be anywhere near this area.  Almost thinks the sliding glass won’t open for him, as ridiculous as it sounds.  That maybe things have changed so much, the wider world can tell too.  But it does move, gliding quietly along.  Opening the way for him to enter, to pass the time wondering, waiting for Killua. 

Or not.

Because there he was, blue eyes trained to brown; and everything else broke away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! New chapter, new developments. I hope everyone liked it...
> 
> I'm still not that confident writing smut?? semi-smut?? whatever you could call this; but I am trying to improve. Hopefully I am!
> 
> If you want to leave me a message, or just chat, my tumblr is compulsive-bibliotaph.tumblr.com


	8. Together

Gon arrives at exactly 7:53am.  

Killua only knows this, because he's been waiting.  Not purposefully, but instead finding himself at the lobby – fingers fiddling with his watch as each passing set of footsteps drew his attention.  47 minutes stretching into longer than forever.  

When the other young man arrives – walking towards their building an hour too early, nerves shifting around his coffee gaze – it's with the taste of confession in his mouth that Killua rises to meet him.  He looks like Killua feels, unrested and unkempt; wrinkled shirt, same as yesterday, and a thousand newer, darker shadows around his face.  His sunshine only a fragment of yesterday's, hidden behind clouds.  It’s a little unnerving.  

Killua knows why he's here, not sure why Gon is.  Made sure to keep the walls he'd spent a lifetime building down; an excitement he knows he doesn't deserve to feel.  Open, as a new person, as something slightly more than a monster.  There's something curling in his gut at the possibilities, but for once, he's not afraid.  

For some reason, he's hopeful.  

There are a thousand things he wants to say today, hopes he can explain with his limited point of reference; and when glass slides away from between them, he's lost in the smell of rain and earth.  Of the way Gon’s face lights up at the sight of Killua.  How it flutters his heart off-time.  How the air between them is full and intense.  

“Gon.”  

“Killua.”  

And then Gon breaks through that last division, hands out.  Looking more so a child than anything, reaching at the nape of Killua's neck, leaving goosebumps when fingertips touch the skin there.  A gentle hum at the blending of their body heat, thick fingers tangled in the fine hairs there.  

“I need to talk to you about something,” words whisper soft, “now.”  

There's crackling up his spine, mouth dry as the skin of his bottom lip gets caught in his teeth.  Blood speckling onto his tongue, strong and metallic, and so alike to that of normal people.  

There's dirt in Gon’s skin, there's rivers in his eyes – Killua can feel the gravity, and it's pulling them close.  Curls his own pale fingers onto the suited shoulder across; can feel the hard muscle beneath his grip, the warm skin burning through thin fabric.   Killua's getting dizzy, getting lost in this moment, but nothing's felt safer than this teetering.  

There are words bubbling up, molten in his throat.  

It's too much.

“Me too.”  

 

* * *

 

Gon can feel his blood rushing, focuses on the delicate pink blooming on the beautiful face before him.  

It's too reminiscent of his dream last night, hazy and hot.  Panting Killua in front of him.  

Under him, over him.  

Full in his hands.  

And this is why Gon needed to talk to him.  Because these thoughts weren't leaving – creeping up too quickly.  

And Gon wanted to swallow it down; to let it fill him up.  

He's got his free hand in Killua's now, is being dragged to their office with the large table and minimalistic art on the walls.  Door clicking closed behind them.  And the scene was so much like yesterday – crackle in the air, distance between, too far.  

Their fingers are still interlocked, sweat prickling as Gon feels his palms warming the other's.  He can see the redness of an ear nestled amongst soft white hair.  He wanted to taste the shape of it.  Wanted to see if it could grow a deeper colour.  

“You had something you wanted to tell me?”  

His words are heavy; Gon can nearly see them floating, glowing, as they joined the atmosphere.  Needed to hear what the other wanted to say.  

That if he missed the opportunity to hear Killua's thoughts, he'd never have another chance.  

“You first.”  

There was such a sense of déjà -vu, drawing them close.  But unlike yesterday, once the rest of the world was shut out, Killua was back – was facing him front on, open.  Bright blue, like summer skies, filled with stars.  

“I can't... stop,” breath slowly escaping, eyes sliding down away from Gon’s, “thinking about you.”  

Pink lips, parted; wetted with the pointed tongue peeking out.  Tantalizing.  

“About me?”  

“Yeah.”    

He feels like they're balancing on some sort of edge, and Gon wants to fall.  

Wants to feel that rush.  

“Like what?”  

There might have been a hundred things he's expecting.  “Us fucking.   ** _Hard_** ,” was not one of them.  

It has him reeling, losing air, finding confidence.  

And so, also unlike yesterday, he lent over and took what he wanted.  Made sure he could experience those lips and cheeks and ears like the roaring in his veins compelled him.  Like he'd dreamed.  He wanted it.  He wanted everything.  

Now.  

 

* * *

 

 

This was such a bad idea, but Killua couldn't care less.  

Especially as they were alone – would be for at least the best part of an hour.  For the first time in his life, he's doing what he wants, regardless of the consequences.  

It feels like freedom, in a sense.  

Gon's moaning into his mouth, and the way his skin hums beneath his touch is intoxicating.  The sound of his heart is loud in his ears – an unsteady rhythm encouraging as he feels his tongue being sucked.  As blunt teeth drag over his bottom lip.  

The crumpled shirt is even more  so now, jackets discarded, belts gone.  He feels his hair being pulled, strong taste of satisfaction as he's tasting Gon's tongue.  They've been kissing for longer than he knows; and all he knows is that he never wants to stop.  

The air rushing into his lungs once they part is less satisfactory than the dark red of Gon's lips, the hungry stare from brown eyes.  He can't help a groan when that pink, delicious, addicting tongue peeks out and licks plush lips.  Can't help the hands reaching out, touching.  

The fluorescent lights fall on dark skin, his white hands bright against Gon's chest.  He doesn't remember unbuttoning the shirt, but he's glad he has, loves the feel of moving muscle.  Traces the lines of Gon's body as the other breathes heavy in his ear.  They're barely an inch away from each other, hot hands travelling wherever they can reach.  Perched on the table's edge, pants tight with the other grinding against  him.  At the same level.  

“How are we going to do this?”  Strong hands wandering to his lap; the moan in his throat more of an answer than anything.  Gon's playing dirty.  

He'd just have to up his game then.  

Leaning closer, lips against a curved ear; quiet like it's a secret.  

“I want you to forget everything else but me.”  

 

* * *

 

 

Killua's caught between the table and Gon's hips; and it's exactly where he wants him.  

The curve of Killua against him, his words he moans so enticingly,  Gon can't help his wandering hands.  Wants this to last forever, because with each touch he's learning something new about the other.  He can feel cool hands on his chest as he brushes fingers along the tent in dark pants – rising to the challenge, can't think about anything aside from how ruinous Killua's expressions can be.  Wants to occupy everything in his partner's mind, his sight.  

He's unzipping him now; circling, grasping hardening skin.  Hot, heavy, groaning.  Grip smoothed with leaking wetness; grinding himself against a  knee as he starts to move.  

“You know, Killua, I've been thinking about you too.”  Shuddering as he's freed by long fingers, a jolt up his spine as they move in time.  Thoughts breaking into shards, mind puddling at the pleasure.  He's not quite sure what  compels  him, but he's soon sharing his own secret.  

“ I came last night thinking of you moaning my name. ”  

“  **Fuck** ,  _G- Gon_. ”  

There's a lot of groaning, doesn't know which comes from who; lips caught in a kiss before he can realise, catch a breath.  

He finds  his lungs filled with Killua, smoke and passion, full in the air between them.  They break away too soon, hands picking up where they'd slowed.  Anticipation in his veins, all it takes is the slightest shift until their hands are gone, hardness rocking hotly.  Messier, maybe; and it's probably not the best idea – but it feels so good, too good.  And there's nothing quite like the huffing gasps of the young man beneath, across from him – hazy and close and too much like his dream.  Kisses him deep to know it's not an illusion.  

Killua's hand is between them, pulling moans from both.  Gon tilting him back slightly, changing the angle, grasping at hips.  And with the building pressure, he feels uncomfortably close; hips jerking faster, hand joining Killua's – his name falling like a chant, high and desperate and needy.  Pushing them closer, over.  

Killua's coming hard, with a broken half-gasp of his name , and it's all he needs to follow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The long awaited, over-due chapter! I'm sorry it took so long, and I hope you all like it.
> 
> As always, thank you for reading; I really appreciate it.  
> My tumblr is compulsive-bibliotaph.tumblr.com, if you'd like to talk.


	9. Exploration

Killua feels the colours swirling behind his eyelids sharply, a twisting kaleidoscope as he settles from his high.  
  
He can hear Gon panting harshly in his ear – not quite lifting himself off of Killua yet. They're sweaty and sticky, and their brilliant sponteniety seems to have left them in a somewhat awkward situation for the rest of the day.  
  
Because Killua knew, knew, that if that's how great half-realised, frantic, grinding felt, he wasn't going to stop there. Wasn't going to miss an opportunity like this, that he could feel roaring in his blood still. That still sent slight shocks through him; shivers that he knew Gon could feel, pressed close like he was.  
  
There's still time before anyone else should be arriving, before the heat of the other's hands have to be off him, but if they get started again, he'll never want to stop. His tie is on the floor, crumpled in its rough handling, and there's heat between them, still. Gon finally pulls back, and it's an effort to not loop his arms around his neck, drawing him close again. To smother himself in Gon, oblivious and uncaring to the world around.  
  
But this was reality, and they have responsibilities.  
  
It's not an uncomfortable quiet; not really. And Killua can see where his hands have creased the fabric across Gon's shoulders. Can see the way Gon zips himself up, sheepish. A slight laugh at Killua, still perched on the edge of their large table, not having moved yet. Gon makes this easier – either with his personality, or with the way he just seems to intuitively move, react. Doesn't fuss over Killua.  
  
It takes longer than it should, probably, before they've straightened up. Gon pulls some paperwork that he set aside yesterday – zoning orders for the sample area they want to test in – and sits down, right next to where Killua's sat.  
  
“Do you need coffee?” A simple question that Killua feels inately. He must give something away, because Gon just smiles and nods. “I'll call Sharin then to bring some in, before I start phoning the environmental council. That's what we were doing today, right?”  
  
“Sharin?”  
  
“Our secretary?”  
  
“She has a name?”  
  
The incredulity on his face only lasts a second, before it breaks into something happier. “Of course, Killua. It'd be weirder if she didn't.”  
  
Blonde hair and long legs – legs that had wrapped around Killua a few times last summer – and all he can really remember about her is that she moaned unconvincingly, and hated the smell of cigarettes. Long nails that scratched the back of his neck. Demanding. A month of fucking on her desk in the evenings, after the rest of the building had left, and still he never knew her name.  
  
Well, it wasn't like it had meant much, either way.  
  
“How do you know her name though?” She hadn't even registered in his mind as their new office's secretary, and even walking past, notices and messages being sent on, it hadn't even occurred to him that they knew each other. Also new was this heat bubbling – why it made him more uneasy than anything, why there was that now-familiar curdling of his stomach. That if she was as interested in Gon as she once was was with him.  
  
He was confused.  
  
But, that was nothing new. From the moment he'd met Gon he'd been struggling with various levels of confusion, of new feelings overtaking him in ways he hadn't even considered before.  
  
He can almost see long nails carving stripes down the large tanned back; over-zealous moans mingling with the subtle groans of Gon. In made him nauseous to consider.  
  
With the way things were turning out though, he might just have to have a little faith.  
  
In himself or Gon though, he doesn't know.  
  


* * *

  
The flicker of worry in Killua's stare made him pause, for just a moment.. He wasn't quite sure why Killua seemed so edgy about their secretary, but the way it made the pale wrist come to cover pink lips it wasn't something Gon wanted to push.  
  
“So, coffee, or not?”  
  
He doesn't know how many cups Killua has had already today, but he could taste it on his tongue. Taste it as clearly as the cigarette smoke, imbued in his skin, in his breath. Heavy and pungent, more so than usual – or perhaps he noticed because of his tongue, exploring; looking for the flavour that was intrinsically unique to the man know stepping up from where he'd been sat. Smoothing out the crumpled fabric of his soft grey vest.  
  
“Yeah, sure. We should get to work anyway.” There's a hand at his neck now, rubbing at his nape. The way the muscles move in his neck is hypnotising, but Gon shakes his head to dispel that thought before it can get any farther than that. It was only the beginning of the day, after all.  
  
And if things went to plan, they'd have plenty of time later.  
  
He can't help noticing the colours of Killua's eyes, though; cornflowers and lightning and overbearing summer days all blended into the perfect shade of blue – bright against the dark bruising under his eyes, betraying the late, sleepless night he must have had. Of why he was drowning in coffee, battling the creeping fatigue Gon too felt in his bones.  
  
He really wanted to sleep. Preferably not alone.  
The pink of Killua's blush was blurring in front of his eyes, and only now did it occur to Gon that maybe spending the night before   
  
He was starting to crash from the rush of adrenaline, a loud yawn breaking, a reminder that he should get a coffee too, despite his usual distaste for it. Maybe he'd get more accustomed to it with Killua around.  
  
That wouldn't be an unwelcome association.  
  
But first, two cups of coffee – one each; after that, work.  
  
Only once that was done could they really play.  
  


* * *

  
Gon's been on the phone for over an hour, arguing with the poor idiot on the other end of the line who had the unfortunate responsibility to mention that their request for larger testing area was being withheld by local government; something which Killua had experienced way more times than he'd care to admit. It was always the smaller groups who put up the most resistance, no matter the project, and it was almost always because they were wanting a larger compensation fee. Same old, same old; just another annoying step in the approval process. Gon was still learning that though.  
  
Killua can see him gritting his teeth now, quiet in listening to whatever the other has to say. He can recognise the frustration bubbling though; he was exactly the same, a few years ago.  
  
There's something Gon's muttering about exploration licenses which, ah, makes more sense. If the group they were calling wanted the upper hand all they would need is claim that there's precious materials located in the area – minerals or gas, that sort of thing – preventing the Zoldyck company from just strong-arming their way in; needing further permissions before they can enter as a private company. Someone on the committee was experienced at handling these sorts of negotiations, at least.  
  
It's a fleeting thought, but the word association has him grinning into his hand, hidden from the distracted Gon.  
  
Exploration  
  
That sounded like fun.  
  
He huffs a little laugh at his own joke, warm in the sun where he's sitting, the window at his back. It's early afternoon, the morning still a little hazy in his mind, and he's just started feeling the bone-tiredness from earlier shake from his system. Gon's frustration is lending him a little energy, it seems.  
  
He knows he should be making calls too, but at this angle he can see there's a mole beneath Gon's ear he hadn't noticed before. He wonders if there's any more he'd be able to find if he did a bit of exploring himself. Along his shoulder blades, perhaps; or maybe down his back. One or two hidden under clothes where maority would never see.  
  
Killua wanted to count them all.  
  
The papers under his elbows were slipping with the amount of weight he had shifted, jarring him out of that particularly interesting line of thought. He can hear Gon smother a laugh, so perhaps he had been paying attention to Killua – he hadn't noticed.  
  
His wristwatch has left an indent on his wrist, red marks from where it had pushed up against the skin as he had leant on it. They're three hours from the end of the work day, and then Killua will have to somehow convince himself to invite Gon over; give himself the opportunity to count those moles he's been daydreaming about.  
  
He'll probably be easier to convince than the guy on the other end of Gon's call; a joke misplaced in it's assumption that he'd need to be convinced at all.  
  
He's trying to fool himself, but he's cleverer than thatl; he knows Gon will come over and Killua won't even have to mention it – they're not nearly done with their earlier activities, after all. He hopes he's got enough lube at home, because really, they're going to need it. Maybe he can buy some more on the way. He'll pick up some condoms too.  
  
He doesn't realise Gon's finished his phonecall until he feels hands from behind on his hips, a ghost of a breath on his earlobe. A wet tongue, careful, along it's edge.  
  
“Your ears are red.”  
  
He doesn't grace that with an answer  
  
“Thinking embarrassing things about us, I hope.”  
  
He can't muffle the laugh that bubbles up from that. Can feel Gon smile against his skin.  
  
“It's warm in the sun, that's why,” sitting up straighter, Gon turning to sit on the desk beside him.  
  
“Guess I'll have to try harder next time, then.” A hint of challenge in the tone.  
  
Killua has absolutely no problem with that.  
  


* * *

  
The end of the day is near, and now that the most frustrating phone call of his life is over, he can preoccupy himself with something much more enjoyable. He's not one to literally 'see red' as Kurapika so kindly phrases it; but the past hour of repetitive phases and continual rejection brought him close. Unlucky that phones are so distant – he'd like to have thrown a punch or two.  
  
That probably wouldn't be very professional, though.  
  
Killua's either been doing nothing the entire time, or has somehow managed to finish everything he needed to in an amazingly short time. Probably the latter; and Gon's not really surprised.  
  
There's something sweet in the air, and it's not exactly unpleasant when he finally re-seats himself beside Killua, longing for the next few hours to move quickly. There's a stack of papers he needs to fill, still; applications and progress reports to outline, and he's starting to realise just how big this thing might become, before they even start field testing. Private business is a whole other level, and he's in awe at how composed Killua seems when confronted by it all. Practice, he guesses, makes you numb.  
  
The first wad of paper stapled together on the pile must have gotten mixed in with the unfinalised stack, because there's neat signatures in all the right spots, dates and times already noted in their assigned areas. It's not his handwriting though; Killua's graceful cursive, dark ink the colour of his eyes marking his signature in each box.  
  
“That stack's done; we can dump them at reception, or with the mailing department. These ones,” hand moving to another pile of papers, surprisingly shorter, “need your signature.”  
  
“And then?”  
  
“And then we're done for today.”   
  
Eyes bright, lips licked in interest.  
  
Done with work, he meant. They weren't done.  
  
Not even close.  
  
And so Gon sped through the remaining documents with an urgency he wasn't aware he had; signature even messier than normal, but right now he didn't care.  
  
He needed to be done _now_.  
  
And with a heavy sigh and a satisfying crack of his back, he was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry guys, there's no satisfactory excuse I can give as to why this took so long, a mix of school and writers block, but I hope you can forgive me.
> 
> My winter break is in just a few weeks; I should be able to update more regularly then!
> 
> My tumblr is compulsive-bibliotaph.tumblr.com - feel free to drop by.


	10. Heated

They're at his apartment after probably the longest train ride of his life; both young men acutely aware of what they're planning to do with each other. Killua ducks into the pharmacy at the station as they arrive at his stop, and the gormless teen behind the register seems impressed by both the amount of condoms and lube he ends up grabbing, and the 10000 Jenni bill he presents to pay with. Eyebrows raised, the cashier jumps a little when he winks, voice breaking as he passes back Killua's change.

Killua can't help the chuckle as he leaves, trying to remember the last time he'd been embarrassed by sex. Years, definitely.

Gon's leaning against one of the support pillars just across from the pharmacy. Gives a low whistle at Killua's recent purchases. The angle catches the light, dark shadows peeking past dark collarbones – and the plastic bag in his grip crinkles as it tightens. Returns the smirk that Gon's shooting at him.

They walk in step towards his apartment building, only a few blocks away from the station. The streets are littered with high schoolers and office workers either on their way home, or searching out a meal. The crowd is typical for this time today, but it means Killua is close to his business partner – can feel the way his skin simmers in his jacket. He bites his lip as that thought pulses down his spine.

His apartment is on the eleventh floor, so the elevator is really the fastest option. Gon's leaning again, hundreds of his image reflecting back from the mirrored walls. Killua can see how the other chews at dry skin on his lips; perhaps a nervous habit, or something else.

Soon enough, he's fishing out his keys and letting the shorter man into his home. The window lets in light, so he forgoes turning on the light, and Gon's already shrugging out of his jacket.

“Drink?” Already opening up the scotch for himself; Gon just nods as he continues shedding his work clothes – tie loosening and top buttons opened. Killua passes the amber liquid and works on his own tie as he nurses his drink. Most of the frenzy from earlier has settled into a slow burn; the knowledge they have time allowing them this easy pace.

There are a thousand shades of grey against the blue sky of his view, the city sprawling. Discarding his vest to the back of one of his dining room chairs, tie soon to follow. Gon, for as stocky as he is, is near silent as he moves, and Killua is a little shocked when he feels Gon's tongue against his earlobe again. Hands circle round to undo his belt, and Killua takes satisfaction in the heavy clunk of the buckle against the hardwood. Killua shifting his head to give better access to his neck, humming against firm lips.

Spinning around so they're now face to face, Killua does what he's wanted to ever since this morning – licking the mole beneath Gon's ear; nosing the area and revelling in the shiver it causes. He can feel Gon's interest, attraction, against his leg, but he'd rather bide his time. Doesn't want to rush things when they've just arrived.

Moving his lips from the side of Gon's face to his mouth, feeling dry skin against his own; tongues welcomed in, Killua can only guess how he tastes – like stale coffee and cigarettes, if he had to guess. Angled his head for better movement, better feeling. Sucking on Gon's tongue as they shift apart, grinding his hip against a leg.

Gon's backed against the windowed doors to his porch; dark skin, dark hair – stark against the greys and dull blue of the outside world.

The only thing in his sight worth seeing.

 

* * *

 

Killua's leg has been nestled between his for the best part of ten minutes now, gentle press as Gon can feel those thin, _talented_ , hands come to card through his hair. Gon's been trying to discard his shirt, but his hands can't quite seem to work his buttons; his mind too focused on trying to grind down, to feel the wondrous suction of lips on his neck. A reedy whine betrays his impatience, and he can feel Killua bite the skin at the junction between neck and collarbone in retaliation.

He's a lot stronger than he looks, really; Gon's always been strong – built into his body naturally – but Killua's kept him pinned nearly the entire time; he has to admit, he really appreciates the feel of hard muscle against him, knowing that if he decides to flip their positions, he wouldn't risk the possibility of breaking the other man. Wouldn't have to hold back; not that he could trust himself to, anyway.

Their drinks sit forgotten, the remaining sunlight catching the copper colour and making it glisten. It's the first thing he sees once he manages to get his eyes open – not sure when he'd slipped them closed, trying to focus on the feeling of soft skin against his own – and the last of the sunset is slipping away.

For the first time since this started, Killua pulls back to flick on the lights; pulling his own shirt off, it allows Gon to follow suit. He can see the generous tent in the grey pants, and he can't help the little lick of his lips that that inspires. Hazy memories of dreams full of flushed skin and broken moans spark to the forefront of his mind, and Gon can't wait for Killua to walk the half-dozen steps back. Instead, takes the initiative,  _again_ , to close the distance; a small gasp is lost amongst the meeting of their lips, and again, fingers curl into his hair. Pulling just enough to make his toes curl, only half a thrust of his hips from this angle. Can't help his own hands wandering to the seat of Killua's pants. Likes the feel of muscle in his hand; how it gives Gon more leverage to rock against him. How it inspires Killua's own movements, each punctuated by a moan.

He's almost too preoccupied by the beautiful sounds spilling into the room that he doesn't realise right away that they've stopped kissing. Killua's got his head lolled back, pale neck stretched out. Blue eyes hooded, a burning need framed by ebony lashes. His mouth is slack, and Gon takes the opportunity to bite at the pale skin. Loves the choked gasp it causes; moves one of his hands to cup the hardness at the front of his pants, hoping to draw more sounds out.

All of a sudden the couch is at his back, horizontal, strong legs either side of his hips. Normally milky skin is blushed rosy – chest panting seemingly in time with Gon's heartbeat. The hunger usually beneath his façade is plain to see, and it peaks his blood, boiling.

Killua looks a little ruined, and Gon can't help the grin. He wants this Killua all to himself; wants to occupy his thoughts, and everything he does.

He's always been greedy; things weren't going to change now.

 

* * *

 

Gon's as forceful as he looks, hard muscle and thick limbs talented in the way they move and shift. Killua's not used to being the one out of control, but he finds he doesn't really mind. Trusts Gon enough to know he'll be alright.

It's a bit ridiculous, considering they've only known each other a week or so, but Killua can't help falling into the heat of the situation. Sitting back so their hips align, so he can feel the lump of Gon's dick settled against his ass. Dark hands squeezing his thighs.

His zipper is too tight, but the friction sends pulses skittering through his body, behind his eyes. Each nerve hyper-aware of the body shifting beneath him. He takes his time tracing the lines of Gon's chest – happy to watch the way skin jumps beneath his fingertips, cheeky grin hiding behind a bit lip.

Gon is working on his zipper now, the metal teeth sticking from the unusual angle. Killua brings his hands down to help, but Gon bats his away; more forceful tug sliding the zip down. The release of pressure helps remind him what they're building to, and he moves to open Gon's pants too. As soon as they're undone, he's pulled down to his lap again – bouncing a little and making them both groan.

“Eager, aren't we?”

“Of course. You've been teasing me all day.”

Killua can feel the smile on his face – eyebrow raising in his silent disbelief of  _'I've been teasing?'._

It's a little shocking to realise how often he's been smiling as of late – and when it came to sex, he'd never even considered how fun it could be. Something more than mindless pleasure and easy release; he and Gon had barely done anything yet, and he was already enjoying himself more than he could remember. More than the dozens of sordid affairs around the office that had passed over the years.

Actually, now that he thought about it – how were they going to do this? He didn't really mind either way, just so long as it lasted. He didn't want this cut short; wanted to feel this pressure build to bursting – to feel the painful ecstasy of letting go. Hands are dipping into his boxers now, and it snaps him back to the present. Can feel, as well as see, himself hardening, leaking. Searching out more friction against the heel of Gon's hand.

“You ever fucked a guy before?” It's a desperate question, spurred on by a thousand possibilities, and he really, _really_ hopes Gon says... well, he doesn't know what he wants him to say.

“No,” is the answer he gets; but instead of making him wary, all it does is make Killua 's stomach flip-flop – another push of his hips as he stutters out “I have.”

He can see exactly what that information does to Gon. The way possessiveness flares in his expression and pulls his brow down. Gon surging up to bite at Killua's lips – pulling them into another heated kiss. Staking his claim.

He doesn't know if he's been breathing at all by the time they pull apart, and he can see the way dark pupils dilate from this close.

“I only ask because, because, well. I'd really like to take a ride,” following that word with a purposeful grind down onto his lap, “if you'd like. Or maybe you'd prefer me inside tonight.” Resuming the traversal of Gon's body he was indulging in earlier; dark nipple pulling a delicious sounding moan from Gon – his chest rumbling low and deep.

“Why not both?”

Killua wasn't expecting that, and the idea is enough for him to pitch forward, trying to regain some semblance of control. That's a very attractive offer.

A very attractive offer indeed.

 

* * *

 

The way Killua leaps up, off, toward the thin plastic of their earlier shopping, Gon almost regrets his question. He knows the other is coming right back, but even still, he wants to touch him more.

The few moments he has free he takes to sit himself up a little against the arm of the couch; Killua is stepping out of his pants, his boxers as he gets closer; lube in one hand, a strip of condoms in the other. Blue eyes regarding Gon's lower half heavily, the _strip_ innate in his stare.

He stands to shimmy the rest of his clothes off – finally removing the restraints to his erection. Killua smirks happily and repositions himself on Gon's lap; skin-to-skin for the first time. It's so hot he can feel his whole body move into it – trying to get as close as he can. It's the first time he's seen the lithe man without a layer of clothes, and such smooth white thighs are too enticing. He wants to mark them up; purple bruises perfectly complimenting his cool skin tone, the flushed red of his cock – hard and leaking between his legs.

His head feels caught in a mist; wants to just grab the both of them and rub, pull, until they reach that peak. He knows that _that_ would be anticlimactic after all this, though. He wants to feel himself in Killua, Killua in him. Make those blue eyes see nothing but him; remember no one but him.

He's only ever slept with women. Killua's the first guy he's ever had the opportunity to sex with, and already it's the best thing in recent memory. He's more sure that's due to the individual though, rather than anything else.

Thin fingers are touching him lightly, cool against his heated skin – it's barely a tickle, but the sensation feels like every nerve in his body's inflamed. He's harder than he's ever been, and it's only natural for him to reach out to reciprocate.

The moan that rips from Killua's throat seems like it catches him by surprise, and it's enough encouragement for Gon to tighten his grip; liking the way Killua's hips pop to meet his wrist.

Killua's right hand comes to Gon's; but rather than join his movements, he stops his ministrations. Gon's almost disheartened until he sees the _wait_ in Killua's whole demeanour – reaching to grab the lube and popping open the cap.

The way his face twitches in fascinating pulses as the first finger slips in has Gon aching for more. To burn Killua's expression into his memory forever. Soon enough, another slides in to join and a heavy breath skitters across his skin as Killua exhales – feeling good. Gon waits as he watches; the lube bottle wedged between his side and the couch cushion.

He feel possessed as he squirts some out, covering a couple fingers. Killua looks about ready to add another digit, and in that moment they catch eyes. Rather than let another pale finger join the others, Gon slides in his. He's surprised how easily it enters, and from the moan it gets, it was a good idea. Killua rocks back on Gon's hand, and the string of quiet obscenities is enough for Gon to know he wants to do this again. Wants all his fingers in Killua, stretching him out, stretching him open. He curls his finger just a little, at the top joint, but Killua shouts in response. Flushed dick spilling precum, enough to drip down onto Gon's skin. Gon's own cock, jolting, eager to replace his finger.

It's so hot inside Killua, and it's with a little regret that he has to withdraw his hand. Killua has a condom open already – rolled faster than Gon can regester it – and another layer of lube spread over the thin latex. Talented hands pull at him for a minute; not enough to really do much, but he revels in the feeling all the same.

All too soon Killua's shifting, lining up, determined. He looks to Gon, head up from where it was, and smiles – one side of his mouth tilted higher than the other. Blue eyes the most captivating thing he's ever seen.

“Well, let's get started, shall we?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh gosh, I'm so sorry this took so long!! I honestly don't know how it got to be over 2 months; but here, finally the new chapter!! The longest one so far, and *hopefully* worth the wait.
> 
> My tumblr is compulsive-bibliotaph.tumblr.com; feel free to leave a message if you'd like to talk hxh with me - my inbox is always open!


	11. Burning

Gon's cock, like so much of the rest of him, is thick. Killua's trying very hard to keep himself slow, balanced on his knees as he lowers himself down; one hand holding on to hard shoulder, the other pulling at his ass cheek to keep it spread. It's been a long time since Killua's had anal, so it's taking as long as expected to adjust and reacquaint himself with the feeling. The slow burn of almost-pain hasn't quite left yet, but the pleasure is already curling his toes a little. Gon looks like he's about to pass out from the feeling of slowly filling him up, eyes wide and mouth hanging open, that Killua can't help but smirk.

“Feeling good?” There's a sharp pop of hips in response, and it sends a jolt of pain up Killua's spine; too fast for him to be comfortable yet.

“Fuck, ow.” Nails gripping into the muscle of dark shoulder, front teeth biting his lip a little. “Not yet; I'm good, but I'm not _that_ good.”

That seems to have snapped Gon out of his daze, and there's a long moment where Killua can see everything going across his mind – the immediate apology the other hadn't found the words for yet, and the way his eyes crinkled in upset, brow furrowing. Rather than let the mood sour, wasting this perfect opportunity over some innocent over-eagerness, Killua leans forward to pull Gon into another kiss. Tongue pushing deeper than before, added height from his kneel giving him the advantage in leverage. He sucks purposefully on the dry bottom lip of his partner, and it only takes a minute for the tension to drain, Killua biting a little as it does.

“Killua, I'm-”

“Don't worry, just keep moving and take it slow. It's been a while, I'm out of practice.”

He starts his slow sinking again, the pain almost completely gone by the time he can feel sharp hipbones at the back of his thighs. He's completely seated, and the long drawn-out moan is the first proper noise Gon's made since they'd started up again, bottoming out. Strong hands move to rest on his hips, and the rough brush of callus ignites the sensitive nerves under his skin. Killua pulls at himself a little, enough to let the pearling precum at the tip to bead over, before raising himself up just an inch, and sliding back down. The familiar pleasure of the stretch bubbles up another moan from him, and he's finally ready to start moving properly.

Squeezing down on the thick cock inside of him, Killua isn't surprised at the pop of hips that happens again; smirking a little when he sees how worried Gon looks about it. Just lifts himself up a little more and drops with a bit more force. And again. And again. The sharp inhale-exhale of Gon's chest moving with him.

It takes another squeeze, though, before Gon really seems to realize what's happening, brown eyes snapping from the messy meeting of their hips to Killua's eyes.”

“Ki-” Gon's whisper of his name broken by the smack of skin-on-skin. Small moan choking off whatever he was going to say. He's not really moving yet, and Killua can't help the tease.

“Making me do all the work? Are you sure you're not a vir-” smart-ass comment cut short by the tempo changing, hands push-pulling him a little faster.

Gon's sitting a little more upright now, and the angle change brushes the head of his cock against Killua's prostate; the sharp “FUCK” different from the hiss of pain earlier. There are stars scattering in his mind, and rather than bouncing up again like he had been, Killua grinds down – hips moving in small circles, pushing Gon's cock back into that spot again and again, rim stretching over the thick base as the pleasure washes over him – Gon helping with his own steady hip grinds.

“F-feel... feels so good,” Killua admits, ass pulsing against the thickness inside him.

His knee's cramping a little at the lack of space on the couch, and he wobbles forward a little – catching his balance, hand again at Gon's shoulder, the other behind him, supporting his weight as he rocks back and forth. Lifting his head just a little, Killua can't help notice the warm breath of the other, so close it burns.

There's barely an inch of space between them, and Killua closes the distance.

 

* * *

 

Gon's enraptured, can't take his eyes off Killua as the red rush of blush creeps down his chest. He's arching back, angled just enough to keep himself keening and grinding down in the most delicious way. White hair is plastered with sweat, sticking to his brow as they move.

His hands are still at Killua's hips; a little leverage to help push up into the tight heat. There's not much he can do in his current position – straddled and being ridden on the couch – but he's finding the view enough to make up for it. Killua's cock bumps against the hard muscle of Gon's stomach every time he moves, and the sticky spot of precum and sweat grows. White thighs are flexing around his hips, and the occasional squeeze around his cock has Gon losing his train of thought, frantic little thrust his return answer every time. The squelch of lube punctuates each movement, and the wet sound just gets Gon a little more desperate to watch Killua unravel, cumming hard with Gon inside him. Wants to see that perfect mask, beautiful and flawless, break under the pleasure. Short little huffs and drawn-out whines from red-bitten lips are enough encouragement, and Gon can't help himself as he shifts a little more into an upright position, Killua in his lap.

“So good,” another hard bounce smacking their skin together.

He moves one hand from its position on the other's hip; shifting to stroke at the straining shaft of Killua's cock – red and hot and glistening. Killua's moaning longer and louder than Gon's ever heard from anyone, the force of the pleasure hitting him enough that he almost topples back onto the couch; Gon's arm the only thing keeping the lithe man in place. Index finger traces the shape of Killua's sac, heavy balls shifting against Gon's pelvis with more and more urgency. Thin skin contracts at his touch, precum spurting messily to join the growing patch of wet on his stomach.

“M-more. Harder.” It seems strange that Gon's the one asking for it, hazy blue eyes locking to his as Killua continues to fuck himself onto the other's lap. Gon so hard, twitching at the sensation.

The pace picks up again, an angled thrusting of hips as Killua leans back on both hands, balanced on Gon's knees. Pink mouth slack in another moan, muscles in his neck vibrating. Dark hands return to their spot at Killua's hips, gripping tighter as the bouncing of the pale body increases. Gon's moaning as he moves, mixing with the higher keening of his partner.

Gon pops his hips, flush with the tight muscle of Killua's ass; a strangled “fuck,” the only warning.

Killua freezes, back arched, as he cums – erupting hard all over himself with a strangled cry of Gon's name. The hoarse exclamation triggers Gon's own orgasm, hard and blinding before he even has a chance to realise its arrival; Killua still sliding up and down his cock as he fucks him through it.

Killua slumps against his chest once they're both done, breathing heavy and taking a moment to recollect himself as he lifts his hips to slide Gon out. Gon brushes rough fingers up Killua's side, indulging in being able to enjoy him now the initial cloud of lust has lifted – smiling at the goosebumps he can feel rising to his touch.

Soft lips, still pink, peck his – different than before, fond – as Killua goes to stand. He takes the used condom from Gon and makes his way to the kitchen to throw it away, only wobbling once. He's still completely naked, and Gon can see the glisten of excess lube between pale thighs from across the room. Killua downs the rest of his forgotten drink, ice completely melted now, as he lights up a cigarette retrieved from his discarded pants.

Opening the fridge, he peers in; glass clinking as the door moves. Assessing its contents, it's a minute before he turns to Gon.

“Hungry? I've got pasta I can reheat.”

The growl of his stomach seems to be enough of an answer, Killua snickering a little. Gon's not quite sure what he's supposed to be doing now, so he just continues to sit, naked, on the comfortable leather of Killua's couch.

The microwave dings, and Killua curses a little when he touches the hot plate. Snubbing out the rest of his cigarette in the bottom of his sink, he brings the meal to his small dining table.

Gon still hasn't moved, watching Killua in a mesmerised fascination – the way fine muscle moves under white skin, the curl of expelled smoke when his cigarette was burning. Raising an eyebrow, Killua just sits down at the table.

“Care to join me?” putting down plates and cutlery for the both of them. “The food might not be great, but I can promise you'll love dessert.”

The way his smile curls up in snarky cunning has Gon grinning back, moving to sit across from Killua; because, well, he can't disagree with that.

 

* * *

 

The pasta _isn't_ great, even when it was fresh, but Gon eats two plates of it anyway, despite that. Killua's not as hungry, only picking at the limp spaghetti whilst watching Gon. Smirking when the other blushes at the realisation.

He's still naked, unembarrassed, legs crossed as he sits on his chair. Gon had pulled on his briefs before joining Killua for food, and Killua can see the grey fabric pulled tight across large thighs through the glass of the table, dark hair disappearing down past the waistband from his navel.

Killua had cleaned him self up a little whilst in the kitchen – now-dirty dishcloth discarded somewhere in the general direction of the laundry – but his ass was still pulsing a little, missing the thick hardness of Gon's cock. It's still too soon for another round, but he shifts his hand to fondle at himself a little anyway; he hadn't remembered how good it felt to be fucked by a guy, but even with their rough start, Killua was sure he wanted more of what Gon could give.

Something he wasn't aware of must have changed, because all of a sudden his breathing is heavier, cock hardening as he rubs the head, strokes up and down with just the barest of friction. He's got one hand splayed on the table, surely leaving marks, as the other touches himself – fingers moving to his balls, rubbing lightly.

Gon's staring at him now, the rest of his food long forgotten when he'd become aware of Killua's one-man show. Nothing's hidden by the glass of the table, and Killua can feel dark eyes staring at the steady movements of his hand. He pushes himself into a more upright position – doesn't know when he had slumped so far – and those dark, heavy eyes are looking directly at him now. Eye contact making Killua flush at the intensity.

“Like what you see?”

“Yeah. Looks delicious.” Pink tongue darting out to run across those dry lips. “I'm looking forward to dessert.”

“Only good boys get dessert, Gon.” Liking the way that seems to shudder through the stocky frame of the man sitting across from him; Killua smiling with a hint of teeth bared, wanting. “It's a reward.”

Sliding his chair back from the table, he settles his legs wide, cock jutting up, eager. A dark forearm wipes at his mouth before Gon pushes back from the table too – walking the small distance and kissing Killua softly before sinking to his knees. Tongue licking his lips again in anticipation.

Killua makes sure to grab his attention again before getting any further – hand gripping large shoulder, squeezing. Leaning down, pulling up, to meld their mouths together again, tongues brushing. Killua sucks on Gon's bottom lip once he gets the chance; humming at the nip he gets in the corner of his mouth. A string of saliva connects them once they pull apart, Killua grinning toothily as he wipes his mouth.

“You really are such a good boy.” 

 

* * *

 

Gon's never sucked another guy off before, but he thinks he's doing a pretty good job. The head of Killua's cock sits snugly atop his tongue, and the taste of precum is enough of a tease to keep Gon suctioning as best he can.

He's got one hand working on the base of Killua's cock, squeezing and moving with the bobbing of his head; the other is at the soft skin of white thighs – brushing nonsensical patterns across the sensitive nerves.

Gon's not practised enough to push any more of the curved cock down down his throat than he already has, but Killua doesn't seem to mind much, from the way he keeps shaking. Small thrusts push another glob of precum down into Gon's mouth, and he moans around the hot head he's sucking on. Hands are in his hair, slowly guiding Gon's head into position every so often, and he can feel the twitching of Killua's cock against his tongue.

Moving his hand from its perusal of milky thighs, Gon cups both balls in his hands, squeezing slightly. That gets a shouted curse from Killua, so he decides to do it again.

Sucking hard on the entirety of the length in his mouth, Gon moves up, enough so that only the tip is between his lips. Licking a pearling bead of precum with the flat of his tongue, he follows that with his hand, stroking the entirety of Killua's red, flushed hardness. Moving to suckle one ball into the wetness of his mouth as his other hand creeps behind to sensitive cheeks. There's enough lube left to prod a finger into the tight pinkness of Killua's rim, and doing so has Killua crying out as he spasms in Gon's hand. More precum slides to his grip, mixing with the wetness already being spread.

“O-open your mouth,” sounding a little more desperate than before, Killua pulling roughly at Gon's hair.

Doing as instructed, he moves his mouth back to Killua's cock, jaw slack and tongue flat. White hands keep him in place as the other thrusts in a less controlled way down his throat; deep breaths and slight hums getting him through the slight gag. Killua has his eyes closed, lip being bitten hard, when Gon looks at him from his position.

He's squeezing himself through his underwear at the sight, wet spot bleeding through the fabric; can feel the drool dripping from his mouth. The push of the heel of his hand against his own erection makes him needier – moaning loudly, wanting to taste his reward.

“C-close.” A high keen in Killua's voice as he nears his peak. Gon sucks his lips around the head of the cock again, wet mouth bobbing down with as much suction as he can create. Bobbing up, he runs his tongue against the thick vein on the underside, humming another moan as he reaches the head again.

Cum squirts into his mouth, thick and heady. Killua seems shattered still as he keeps pumping out another few shots, Gon's hand stroking him as he cums. Gon's mouth is full before Killua's finished, so he swallows around him as the salty slick continues to gush, licking all around. His breathing is heavy, chest heaving as he empties himself down the wetness of Gon's throat.

Gon continues to lick the other clean as he comes down from his orgasmic mist – his own erection straining against the aggravatingly light friction of his briefs. He's pulling off of the softening cock between Killua's legs, returning the smile he gets.

“Need some help there?” Post-orgasm, and already starting with the teasing. Foot moving to brush up against the bulge.

“Y-you could say that.” Cock twitching violently against the touch.

Killua's dragging his big toe up the seam of Gon's thin underpants – watching the way the feeling shoots through broad back and thighs, ass contracting a little.

“Well, I've always liked to think of myself as the generous sort.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now I shall disappear for another two months in shame.
> 
> [Not really. I am sorry for the wait, though.]


	12. Peaceful

Killua can see himself reflected back in brown eyes, wide and quiet as he rubs his thumb against the skin of Gon's rim.

They're on his bed now, lube and condoms brought from the lounge, muscular legs spread wide for Killua to get close. White sheets bright against the dark brown of Gon's skin; even the expanses generally hidden by layers of clothing a warm chestnut colour. Chest moving a little heavily, cock still hard and curved upwards. Killua had offered to suck him off – return the favour and maybe catch up on the several hours sleep he'd missed the night before, stressing over the 'Gon Situation' – but the other had taken his declaration of 'doing both' very seriously.

So, with that in mind, Killua has been massaging the muscle of Gon's upper thighs – one hand moving to softly cup his sac, the other trailing fingers between both ass cheeks. The lube warms quickly in his hand, prodding at the shorter's ass with his index finger. Slipping to his first knuckle, he can feel the way Gon's muscles start to tense in response, squeezing his fingertip tight.

“Are you OK? We don't have to do this,” free hand on Gon's bent knee, looking to his partner as he breathes heavily. “I can stop.”

“Don't even think about it; it just feels weird.” Head shifting up to look Killua in the eye; smirking a little at what he sees.

Waiting until the taut muscles relax a little more, Killua wiggles his finger deeper – lube making it slip in fairly easily. Gon seems a lot more relaxed once he's had a minute to get used to the sensation, eyes flicking down to where Killua's hand is, one finger disappearing into him. Wrapping thin fingers around the other's cock as he watches, more lube slicking him up and making the pale fingers of his grip slide wetly. The firm strokes pull a half-muttered moan from the man sprawled on the bed, and it allows Killua to push-pull into Gon's ass more purposefully.

There's a squishing sound as he rubs two fingertips against the dark puckered skin of his rim, glistening with lube. Gon groans at the stretch, both fingers carefully opening him up, other hand never stopping its movement on his cock. Frankly, Killua's impressed he can still multitask so well.

Gon's started bouncing back on his hand now, breath uneven as the pace picks up a little. Scissoring his fingers apart to stretch him even more, Killua's wrist snaps a little harder, more calculated as he moves; strong hips shifting faster, encouraging his movements.

“How does this feel?” Twisting both fingers as he curls them, watching the way brown eyes dilate, hungry.

“More,” pushing back, hard. “I need more.”

Killua just sighs a half-laugh, moving his hand from its steady stroking of Gon's cock to pull his asscheeks apart a little more; the third finger snuggly sliding in to join the steady movements of his hand. Precum slides down the curved shaft of Gon's cock – overstimulated just enough to pearl and drip, hips jumping a little with the extra stretch.

Even through this is the first time Killua's seen Gon stuffed like this, he could definitely get used to it; watching the other man fall apart on his fingers. Addictive, almost.

Killua doesn't know how close Gon is, but the way he whines quietly in the back of his throat has him interested; his own cock jerking a little, too spent for anything to come of it, but blood rushing all the same.

Another moan has him gripping at himself, clumsy with his left hand, as he keeps pushing his digits in; Gon's mouth going slack at the feeling, eyes closing as he draws out a deep-chested moan. His cock is dark and desperate-looking, wet and ready as it twitches in the evening air. Killua leans over to take it in hand again, stilling when the shorter gasps at the touch, eyes flying open and head snapping to look at him dead-on.

And with a growl that shoots right through Killua, he just tightens his ass muscles against the three fingers inside him, squeezing roughly – brown eyes burning, and Killua can't look away.

“More.”

* * *

Gon's never felt so full, stuffed with Killua as the fourth finger stretches him even wider. Cool hand against his cock, pulling half-thrusts from him – pushing back as much as he's pushing forwards, sensations building and burning. He can feel lube dripping down the inside of his leg – a wet trail that tingles on his skin – blue eyes burning as they linger.

Sweat is making his back cling to the sheets beneath him, damp and crumpled as Killua's fingers push deeper past his rim. Fingertips brushing against his insides, white-hot pleasure flashing behind his eyes every so often. Talented hands working him from both sides, Gon can't help the moan building at the feeling, the thought. Smug cockiness evaporating with the heat of the situation.

There's a moment when all he can hear is the creak of the bedframe, the harshness of his breath, the blood rushing in his ears, until Killua flicks his wrist just so and Gon is frantic – legs widening as he bounces erratically, the other man stroking expertly up and down his cock, inside him. He had wanted more of Killua than this, but he won't be able to last that long; orgasm so close he can taste it. Not able to keep his eyes open from the pure concentrated pleasure pulsing through his nerves, Killua's breathing ragged above him, thin fingers still slip-sliding in a steady, confident rhythm.

He can hear Killua shifting closer, feel the angle change slightly inside him, and he struggles to open his eyes. Sees pursed pink lips lowering close, white hair falling in his face – obscuring bright blue, framed by dark lashes, eyes hooded. Left hand pulling up his shaft slow and tight, warm breath blowing against the tip, fingers crooking one last time.

It hits like a wall; hard and almost unexpected – limbs locking as he cums, stock-still as he forgets everything but squeezing the fingers up his ass, still moving. Pulse after pulse, hot and wet splashing high across himself, hitting Killua's chin. The sight of that too much for his sensitive state – head dropping to the mattress as he loosens up. Another thoughtless whine as Killua withdraws his hands, an unusual and unexpected feeling of emptiness between his legs.

Muscles relaxed and tension fully spent, the sleepless night before feels like it's finally caught up to him; deep breath turning into a yawn, he can feel the bed shift as Killua lays down too – Gon can't seem to get his eyes to open to check, though.

He'd wanted more, but Gon can't really complain. More to look forward to for next time.

And it's with that thought, he falls asleep.

* * *

Killua doesn't dream – hasn't for years – and yet, he does.

It isn't anything spectacular or amazing, just a normal scene of the workplace – Gon leaning against his desk pretending to not be bored. Sunlight streaming in from the afternoon, bright and golden and making the whole room glow.

Glancing back down to his work, expecting to see the blue ink stark against the white of his paper, none of the wordy planning permission is there; instead, both of Gon's strong hands are at his thighs, wet mouth gentle against the tent in his pants. Dark spots of saliva eek into the fabric, zipper slipping down relieving some of the pressure.  
Dark hair in impossible spikes, brushing against his thighs, because oh, he's not wearing his pants like he thought.

Hands all over him, feeling him up in places untouched. The afternoon sun has gone – moonlight and room dark, but he can still feel the warm afternoon on his back. The sun still inside Gon's skin. Burning from the inside, Killua's fingers disappearing into the hot heat of his ass; Gon splayed across the bed, making sounds Killua's not even sure a grown man should be able to make. His cock is hard, dripping, and then it's inside him, sucked deeper into the burning, tight space of Gon's ass.

He feels like a teen again, awed at sex and how quickly he's swept up – thrusting deep as they moan together. White light as he loses himself in the feeling. Nothing like his quick hook-ups that end faster than he can remember his partner's name. Gon moaning his name, reverberating around the room, his chest. Feels the other's name pulled from his lips.

His name, the word 'more', that's all he could hear. A shock to his system when Gon says, “I want you, Killua,” plain and simple. Genuine.

He doesn't dream, but he wouldn't mind it happening more often.

* * *

Gon wakes in the middle of the night, disoriented as he blinks. Silvery moonlight streams from the window, illuminating Killua's pale back, the bedsheets.

He's close enough to touch, legs tangled a little, soft inhale-exhale enough to move the lithe muscles of his pale back.

It's so peaceful, none of the traffic noise reaching so high to cut through the midnight, and Gon wants to touch down the bumps of his spine, feather-light. Sees freckles spattered along his back and shoulders. Still wants to run his tongue down them, but for now, resists. Doesn't know if he wants to break something as fragile as this moment.

The sheets are soft cotton, cool and smelling sweet despite their sweat settling stale. Sex still faint in the air.

Gon's hard again, but he barely cares; instead curling close, wanting to touch the moonlight silver of Killua's skin, silver linings of clouds in his hair. That mesmerising starlight that had had him captivated from the first time he'd ever seen Killua.

Touching something close to a dream, he closes his eyes and sleeps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone, I'm so sorry that it's taken so long to update this!
> 
> I've been really focusing on my commissions (which you can find info for [here](http://compulsive-bibliotaph.tumblr.com/commissions)), so I have only had time in-between for my ongoing series. I know this chapter isn't the longest, but hopefully you all find it OK anyway!


	13. Morning

The sun bright against his eyelids is proof that he'd slept much later than usual; far later than the greying mornings he was usually accustomed to, rolling out of a cold bed to prepare for the workday ahead.  
  
Instead, he can feel the sunlight on his skin; welcoming after a night of proper sleep.  Or maybe it was his bedmate clinging to his back that was leaving him so much warmth.  Strong arms curl around his waist, and he can feel the hot breath brushing against the back of his neck.  
  
He should really get out of bed – _they_ should really get out of bed – but he really doesn't want to.  He thinks he might be catching something; his heart thumping irregularly still, and his nerves seem to vibrate with a feeling that Killua can't quite put his finger on.  
  
It then occurs to him, horrifyingly, that he's gotten too involved.  
  
The fact that technically Gon was employed to him wasn't an issue that he even regarded – it had never stopped Killua before, and he wasn't expecting it to be one in the future.  With as much as the Zoldycks controlled, there was no problem of scandal or blackmail.  No worries about who he fucked – female, male, staff or otherwise.    
  
No, what really scared Killua was what this relationship with Gon had started for him.  That this was the first time he'd ever brought one of his partners – sexual or otherwise – to his apartment.  That the night before hadn't just been a release of the undercurrent of lust that had been growing from the moment they had met on that crisp evening; that it was more than just chasing down carnal pleasure with the strong man clinging to him.  That this included kissing, and cuddling, and sharing time, and emotions – mindblowing sex too, of course – but something even _more_ that Killua was afraid to even consider.  
  
Because that would be a weakness; and weaknesses proved fatal in his line of business.  
  
Gon mumbles before he wakes up; rumbling words sending shivers down the Killua's spine like electricity, like magic.  He's exposed like this, naked and trapped within the other's arms – thankful he has his back to the shorter man.  Thankful he's still asleep while his boss struggles with trying to affix his normal mask of cool disaffection.  Hard when his body is reacting to the slight movements of his partner, the warmth spreading across his skin like a wave.  
  
A small lick to the nape of his neck; tongue now drawing patterns across his shoulderblades as Killua is shocked into stillness – can't help the moan at the slight brush of teeth at the sensitive ridge down his spine.  Acutely aware of the hard heat pressed against his ass – inspiring his own cock to half-hardness.  
  
He should be getting ready for work.  Should be rolling out of Gon's eager grip.  But he can't.  
  
He's discovered a weakness that he can't help but want to be exploited.  
  


* * *

  
Killua finally rolls to look at him, blue eyes brighter in the morning light than the night before – maybe even than all the other times he's ever seen him.  All Gon knows is that it makes him crave him more.  
  
The sheets are softer than any of the ones he owns – painfully evident in the difference between Killua and himself – but he likes the taste of luxury.  Likes the idea of their two worlds meeting in a hot, messy, amazing way.  Wanting more than the lingering feeling of satisfaction of the night before.  
  
And telling from the dark gleam in sapphire eyes, Gon isn't the only one.  
  
But, of course, things couldn't just be easy.  
  
“We don't have time for this.”  The look on Killua's face not matching his statement at all.  Mouth a little ajar as Gon reaches a hand to the stiffening cock before him; soft skin changing with each loose tug of his hand.  
  
“Don't tell me you care about that.”  He doesn't know how he manages to reply so coherently when his brain is filled with nothing but a repetitive, resounding scream of want.  Memories of flexing thighs and deep-set blushes.  The salty taste of cum on his tongue.  
  
Hips move a little where they lay, their owner huffing slightly at the slight grip; “You're not the one who runs the place.”  
  
“But _you_ are,” not sure why they're still talking.  He had told Killua last night what he had wanted.  He wasn't leaving his boss' apartment until they'd done everything.  “Just tell them we had an early meeting or something.  No one's going to question _you_.”  
  
Something in those blue eyes waivers and he can see his chance – closing the distance between them as he slips his tongue between perfect pink lips.  Pulling their bodies closer so their cocks jut up against each other, Gon can't help but revel in the small moans spilling from between their conjoined mouths.  Using one hand on Killua's cock, still steadily pulling in rhythm, he uses the other arm to shift his pale partner so he kneels above him.  Legs wide and unashamed; hoping to be obvious about his intentions.  
  
He makes sure to voice them too, though, just to be safe.  
  
“I want you to fuck me full, Killua.  Want to feel you inside me.”  
  
Didn't realise those were the magic words.  
  


* * *

  
Snaking a finger down to prod at the muscular ass below him, Killua can't help but smirk at how needy and stretched it still feels.  
  
“You're very demanding; you know that?”  Disengaging the fervent sucking of tongues to look down at the man below him, dark skin flushed and eyes excited.  “Very eager too.”  
  
Rather than a smart-alec quip that he half-expects, Gon instead turns to look towards the side table – eyes locking on the lube as he tries to reach it.  
  
Sitting back from his crouch, Killua can't help but lick his lips at the pure want on the other's face – his confident _yeah I'm eager, what about it?_ told in the curve of his lips.  Gripping himself at the base, encouraging another bead of precum down his shaft, he can see brown eyes dilate in interest.  
  
He keeps his movements hard but slow; he's never had a captive audience to his jerking off before, so the idea of the strong man trapped between his thighs focused on the movements of his hand encourages him to stay slow and steady – prolong the experience as long as he can.  Didn't realise he enjoyed being watched so much – or maybe it was the burning intensity in the other's whole aura that got him so hot and bothered.  Another spurt of precum slicks down to assist his hand.  
  
“You really want this in you bad, huh?”  An interested keen the only answer – Killua's not even sure Gon realises he's made it.  “My dick's gonna be the first you've ever had, right Gon?”  
  
He can't tell whether Gon replied yes in words – but the way his hips jerk, the twitch of the thick cock before him, is plenty for Killua to tell he's excited.  A Strange sense of possessiveness flaring up as he watches the lust haze radiate from his stocky partner.  
  
 “Get on your knees and face the headboard; I want to open you up more before we get started, because I'm not going to be gentle.”  
  


* * *

  
Spreading his knees wide as he kneels, he hopes that the faint feeling of Killua's fingers from the night before mean that prep won't take as long.  The bed creaks as the other man reaches for the lube and a condom – strong hands spreading his cheeks farther.  
  
The cool lingering of the lube ignites the sensitive nerves of his rim, and Gon swears he can actually feel his ass pulsing for more; his whole body waiting in anticipation for the first finger to slip in.  A fingernail tickling against his perineum, the soft spot beneath his balls – frustrating teases that he can taste more so than feel.  
  
Killua actually starts with two, and the stretch is enough for a strangled “ _fuck_ ” to bubble up.  It doesn't hurt, so much as entices, so Gon really can't find himself surprised when he shoves back hard with his hips – feeling the second knuckles enter him easily.  Killua responds with a scissored stretch and the curl of his fingertips – white hot pleasure already sparking at the corner of Gon's mind.  
  
He's pushing back hard on two, three, four fingers, and Gon can't tell whether he's screaming the **more** he feels, or whether it's just ringing in his head.  
  
And all of a sudden he's empty.  
  
The ripping of foil and crackle of the lube container means he won't be waiting long, but still he pushes back a little, seeking out that incredible feeling of being filled – shuddering in pleasure when cool hands move to his ass cheeks again – spreading them wide as the blunt head of Killua's cock bumps up against his rim.  
  
It takes one, two, three thrusts before he can feel the smooth skin of thighs on the back of his – the rough handling more of a turn on than anything.  Killua had said he wasn't going to be gentle, and honestly, Gon was glad.  Liked feeling the raw power and pleasure they could create together.  
  
Killua might not have the longest cock in the world, but the depths it touches buried full makes Gon weak at the knees.  Elbows fold as he collapses face-first into the pillows under him, muffling the moans he can't seem to control.  Killua drawing in and out at a steady pace – gaining speed readily, sharp fingernails clawing at Gon's hips.  
  
The wonderful experience of drawing in his partner's dick farther, ass squeezing like it never wants to relinquish the feeling, has words flowing from him like music.  Unbroken moans seeped in pleasure as he drools messily into the expensive cotton of the pillow cases.  He can't quite get his arms to cooperate enough to grab for his cock, but the pleasurable pooling in his lower stomach, the heat zipping up his spine when his prostate is brushed, is enough to make him think that he won't need a firm grip to get him over the edge.  Killua's name the only word he remembers in this moment.  
  
The jackhammer thrusts of the fuck he's getting stay constant, Killua's legs shifting a little to wrap his arms around Gon's chest.  Skin so sensitive to the movement, cock spurting more precum as they shift.  He's sitting back now, basically on Killua's lap, and somehow he's even deeper than before.  Lean arms stronger than they look as Gon can feel himself being lifted and dropped back down, over and over.    
  
Hot whispers in his ear, “how do you like my cock?  You gonna cum nice and pretty and wrecked for me, Gon?”  
  
And it's that that pushes him past the edge – his name wrapped in a thousand layers of attraction, heavy in his ear, as Killua pushed into his ass again and again.  He's coming so hard he can't see, and it's only until the initial wave has passed that he realises he's face first in the pillows again; thrown down as his cum splashes puddles between his legs, Killua frantically thrusting shallower now.  He's desperately chasing his own release, and it's with a guttural growl that he empties himself.  
  
Pulling out, condom full and breathing heavy, the thickness of Killua's head pulling against his sensitive rim is enough to trigger another, dry, orgasm from him – mouth open in a shaky breath, silent.  Muscles and bones feeling like jelly, he rolls a little onto his side, wondering if they really had to go into the office on such an otherwise boring Wednesday.  Waiting for feeling to return below his waist, even if he might regret the deep-set pain of muscle strain for the next few hours.  
  
Because fuck, that was amazing.  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while everyone! I hope you're all doing well!
> 
> As always, I'm so sorry for the delay in updates. Life and uni and a whole bunch of other things seem to have gotten me busy recently - but I hope this chapter makes up for it!
> 
> As always, you can find me on Tumblr as compulsive-bibliotaph!!

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/WritingGee)!


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